


Basilisks and Bromance (and Betrayal)

by PaleBeyond



Series: A Very Parselmouth AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Chamber of Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Manipulative Relationship, Memory Alteration, Obsessive Behavior, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tom Riddle's Diary, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleBeyond/pseuds/PaleBeyond
Summary: A certain diary falls into Harry's hands. It's very nice and he likes it very much, and nothing bad will happen this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter is a freak. A year ago, that word would have shamed him. It echoed through his head in different voices, different times. Now, Harry can look at it in a new light. It’s not a word he’d use himself, but it doesn’t hold quite the same sway over him anymore. To say someone is freak _ish_ is to say they are abnormal. Harry Potter is not normal in the fanatic suburban Dursley way. A freak, Harry thinks to himself, warm in the bed of the second bedroom in the Dursleys house, can be something quite good. There’s one month left until he goes back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Harry Potter can’t remember being happier in this house.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were nasty as ever, jumping at any excuse to berate him as a lazy wastrel, but Dudley Dursley was another matter. The large boy was exceedingly afraid of snakes, and Harry happened to have one that liked him very much. Just the mention of Harry’s familiar would get the boy to back off. Despite their best efforts to keep it outside, somehow the tiny beast slithered its way back into the house each and every time. With Seshhe by his side, Harry was blessedly Dudley-free.

See, Harry might not be able to legally do magic, but Seshhe was magic himself. They couldn’t possibly trace the actions of every magical beast, and definitely not the minor ones. As Seshhe got older, he got harder to catch. He’d snug up against the walls of the house and nobody, not even Harry, could see him in the shadow. Sometimes it seemed he phased through the walls. When asked, the snake would evade the question.

Every once in a while, when the Dursleys were being particularly hard to take, he would unpack his invisibility cloak and take the snake on a walk. Seshhe got tired easily, but would slither up to Harry’s shoulders and peer through the fabric to the dimly lit streets of Little Whinging. There wasn’t much to see, and the cloak was stifling hot, but the freedom was exhilarating. He walked past street after street of cookie-cutter houses, lights on, families inside. He made believe that those windows were part of a larger whole, a magnificent castle, that he would step back inside any moment and head to class. One month, he reminded himself. One month left. And, he supposed, his friends were bound to send him something for his birthday.

\--

The day of said birthday came, the morning bright through the one skinny window of his room. Nothing from his friends, or even weird strangers. Nothing, he thought furiously. They would never send nothing. Malfoy, at least, would see it as a breach of etiquette. No mail, in fact, which was highly suspicious now that he thought of it. He wasn’t just the boy under the stairs anymore, after all. He would have to investigate, somehow.

But not tonight. Vernon had some investor coming over for dinner, and Harry was only too happy to get out of the way. He lounged in the backyard as Aunt Petunia cleaned, reveling in the knowledge that, bar magic, he would have been forced to do it. He had asked Seshhe if he wanted to sunbathe, too, but the snake grumbled about too much light and curled up under Harry’s bed with a warming pad Hermione had given him as a goodbye present. The morning passed uneventfully enough for Harry, though Petunia Dursley seemed a riot of frantic energy as she prepared for guests. It would have continued to be a lovely day, too, if Harry hadn’t looked a bit too happy as he passed through the kitchen. He was only headed to his bedroom for a book, a perfectly honest muggle book. But he was smiling, face slightly flushed from the heat, and he happened to have a bit of dirt on his shoes.

“Boy!” Aunt Petunia called, furious. Her hair was pulled back into a severe knot, and Harry nearly thought she looked a bit like McGonagall for a split second.

Offering his silent apologies to the absent professor, Harry replied, “Yes, Aunt Petunia?”

“You are tracking mud all the way through the house! Clean it up! Then wash the car! And mow the lawn! Hurry up, there’s lots to do and I’m not doing it all myself so you can laze about in the sun!” Harry scowled, wanting to point out that these were Uncle Vernon’s guests, not his, and he wouldn’t even be at the silly dinner. But Petunia had reached a breaking point, nervous and excitable, and he knew pushing her would just get her punished. She was too anxious to think about magic or snakes. He obeyed.

When the mess of chores was finally done with, he stomped up the stairs and fell into bed, careful not to spill his plate of sad-looking sandwich. Just as he was about to tuck in, his familiar slithered into his lap to inspect the food. Seshhe was warm from the heat pad, and his grey pattern had become more distinct.

“ _Did you shed under my bed?_ ” Harry wrinkled his nose.

“ _That looks unappetizing,”_ he replied, which meant yes.

“ _You know I have to slide under there to get it,”_ he complained.

“ _How do you even eat things like that? Wouldn’t you rather have a nice rat? You’re big enough to eat a rat,”_ his snake twisted to regard him with one silvery-blue eye.

“ _No, thank you. I will eat my,”_ Harry paused. Snakes didn’t have a word for sandwich. Of course not. He could say… “ _side-by-side, in the middle. What I mean is, no rats.”_

_“Suit yourself.”_ He slid back to the floor. Harry placed the empty plate on the side table and settled back into his bed. The Masons had just arrived, and Harry had time to kill.

\--

He was reading a school book ( _Magical Theory_ , while not his favorite text, was the one he had read the least) and minding his own business when a crack split the air and he flipped in the bed, nearly knocking his lamp to the ground.

A curious creature had arrived quite suddenly in his bedroom. “Hello?” He ventured.

“Harry Potter!” It squealed.

It looked as if it would continue, so Harry cut it off. “Yes, I’m Harry. And you are?”

“Oh, me, I’m Dobby, sir, Dobby the house-elf.” It blinked up at him.

Harry wracked his brain for what he knew of house-elves. In his first-year textbook, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , they were barely mentioned- Hermione made them read the About the Author section twice, and he thought she might have had a crush on Scamander. He hadn’t researched them at all, but he honestly hadn’t imagined the creatures so… ugly. And twitchy. And dirty. Or with such large, watery eyes. “Might I ask why you are here, Dobby?”

“Oh, Mr. Potter, sir… I can’t, I mean, I must, but… where to start, sir…”

“Perhaps at the beginning, Dobby. Have a seat.” He gestured at the only chair in the room, a squeaky desk chair Harry swore Dudley had never touched.

The house-elf looked like to cry at the suggestion. “Oh, I couldn’t, to be asked to sit by a wizard, truly, an honor to meet Harry Potter, and now to sit in his presence, no, I couldn’t possibly, no, never, I-”

To combat his raising, whiney voice, Harry lowered his, but Dobby cut off as soon as he started to speak. “If it’s a cultural thing, I’m sorry, I didn’t,”

“He’s _sorry,_ I’m a terrible, terrible,”

“Dobby, be quiet!” He whispered furiously, and huge green eyes snapped to his with an audible gulp. “I must ask you firmly that you do not raise your voice in this house. It upsets, um, it upsets my familiar!” Harry blurted, reaching under his bed. It was an ungainly reach, still seated, but he managed to pull out an irritated snake. The sight of it made Dobby let out a slight squeak, then he fell silent with a hurried nod. He reached up to his own ears and began to twist them, fingers pale. He didn’t let out a sound, and that was worse. “Dobby, stop! Why are you doing that?”

The house-elf’s voice was still squeaky, but blessedly low. Harry had to lean in to hear. “I should be punished, thoughtless, bad Dobby, in the house of a wizard, being loud…”

“You came here for a reason, right? Tell me what you came to tell me.”

“Dobby’s family would be right put out, Master Harry Potter, sir, I’ll have to punish myself something awful,”

“Maybe don’t,” Harry suggested, but it seemed to go unheard.

“But I came to warn you, sir, you can’t go back to your school this year.” His luminous eyes blinked once, twice, as though Harry would just go along with it.

“And why would that be, Dobby?” Harry was beginning to get a bad feeling about it.

“Bad things in store for Hogwarts this year. Bad, bad things, Harry Potter, sir. Plots most foul, by most foul…” he choked off and dug at his stomach with blunt, ragged nails.

“Volde- um, You-Know-Who-type things?” Harry ventured, because it seemed his life ran on a theme.

The elf’s wide eyes went wider, and Harry thought about them popping right out, rolling around. He felt a bit sick. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich. “No…” Dobby led. Harry thought of everything he could Voldemort-adjacent, and came up with nothing.

He wasn’t going to sit out a whole school year for it, though. He managed to get high scores last year, with the real Voldemort trying to kill him. It might be pride, but he thought he could handle something that wasn’t even the monster himself. “I suppose you’re dedicated to this, then? If I wanted to go to school, you would stop me?” Dobby looked at the ground and wrung his hands. “If you feel so strongly about it then, Dobby, I must warn my friends. I can’t just save myself and leave them to whatever plan’s being hatched.”

Dobby’s eyes filled with tears and he leaked great muffled sobs. “Mr. Harry Potter, sir, I’m so glad you’ve understood,” he began, and Seshhe made a slight hiss in Harry’s hands and crept up towards his shoulder. Dobby narrowed his bug eyes at the sight. “But… Dobby knows Slytherins, he does, and Dobby must be sure, Harry Potter, that Harry Potter is safe.” The house-elf had a funny look on his face that Harry had trouble interpreting. “If the wizard was to swear, perhaps…?” Harry didn’t know anything of wizard swears, other than the bad language kind, but he could figure it meant more than a regular promise.

“If all my friends do, I suppose,” Harry leaned back, relaxed.

“If Harry Potter had such fine friends to protect, wouldn’t they write to him? Hmm?” Harry froze. He hadn’t had to investigate, after all.

“You’ve stolen my mail, Dobby, haven’t you?” The creature shrank from him, and Harry realized he was prostrating himself on the floor, grinding his teeth into his barely-there lips. A smothered groan emerged, a keening wail that never rose above a speaking voice. “Enough! Sit up.” Harry hated playing the bad guy, but this house-elf had taken every word from his friends since summer started, and he needed them. “Give me my mail.”

Dobby drew it from nowhere, nothing one second and a large tied parcel the next. “Dobby just wanted… wanted you to stay _away_ , stay safe, Harry Potter,” he had cried an honest puddle into the carpet, a sodden spot.

“I won’t.” He took his mail back. It was all there, two months’ worth, all three friends, Hagrid, even one from Snape, probably a reminder to read his books before term began.

“I must stop Harry Potter,” Dobby mumbled, moving to the door. He opened it before Harry managed to grab him, hand over his small mouth. The sounds of silverware and polite chatter echoed from below.

“You will get back in that room right now, Dobby.”

“Cannot, must stop Mr. Potter,” he wriggled in Harry’s grasp, slipping through it by magic and down the stairs, into the kitchen. Harry followed, Seshhe jostling on his shoulders.

“Get out, get out,” Harry whispered miserably when he caught up. “I don’t want you here, you’ll ruin everything,” and Seshhe leapt from him, and the Elf was gone. The angry hiss had brought Petunia.

“Not to worry, must have jostled the oven, put the tea on, please continue Mrs. Mason! I’m ever so curious how you managed to ice that many cupcakes,” she called behind her.

She paled, nearly stepping on Harry’s snake before he snapped forward and picked him up again. Seshhe seemed sluggish, tired, curling around his arm only slightly. “Freak, what is that doing in here, get upstairs, get up there _now, right now_ ,” and Harry nearly thought she was speaking Parseltongue, she hissed so low.

He had just stepped in the direction of the stairs when a giggling Mrs. Mason stepped in. It looked as though she had started with the strong drinks. “Petunia, dear, might you have any more… oh, who is this?” She raised an eyebrow at Harry’s baggy jeans, his well-loved plaid. She looked at Petunia, who opened her mouth, then closed it.

“Oh, I’m the neighbor’s boy,” Harry covered, grinning. He batted his eyelashes at her. “I’m Harry, ma’am. Very nice to meet you. My pet, here, got right out of his cage,” and she drew back at the snake. Harry revised his strategy. “Nasty things, I know. I’m ever so sorry to interrupt your dinner party, Mrs. Dursley, ma’am.” Petunia nodded at him, hand on her chest, wide-eyed. “Sorry I forgot to return the spare key, I left it on the front table this time. I’ll make sure to lock this little one up nice and tight,” he assured, brandishing the snake in Petunia’s face. “Good evening!” He hurried out the front door.

He barely heard, as he went, Petunia recover. “Grubby boy, yes, father passed away. Like to let him do a few chores around the house, make himself useful…” Doubtless the story he spun would work into some smart business deal of Vernon’s, Harry thought wryly. Lazy neighbor’s boy, turned respectful member of society by the Dursleys. Now Harry was on the street until the Masons left, no invisibility cloak. Despite the residual heat radiating from the blacktop, Harry shivered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked me all the way up and down the promenade. Whoops. Also, it turned out kind of boring.  
> BUT THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS! They're awesome and you're awesome. :)

Were he not a wizard, Harry would have caught a cold that night. The Dursleys kept entertaining to their tiny hearts’ delight, and Harry had to wait hours until the Masons finally left in their posh silver sedan. That left him plenty of time to discuss the events of the night with Seshhe, though he had to be prodded into a more wakeful state.

“ _Did you get rid of that house-elf?_ ” The snake’s head rubbed in a nod against his arm. “ _How?_ ”

Grudgingly the little triangular face peered into his. “ _It’s your nest, though temporary. It’s warded, and I’m a warding snake. It’s what I do.”_

_“But how? It looked like you were going to attack him, and then he was just gone.”_

“ _Do I look like a wizard? It’s instinct. If you want theory, read a book.”_

Harry supposed that was all he would get out of his familiar that night. He finally got inside the house through the back door and went straight to bed.

The next morning he was a flurry of activity. Pulling a stack of parchment from his school things, he wrote his friends a note explaining how he hadn’t gotten letters until now, and implied someone had kept them from him. That would stir them up. He wrote a polite reply to Hagrid and Snape, then sat on his hands and looked at the stack in front of him. He had no way of mailing them. He needed an owl, such a conspicuous method of communication. He could just wait for another message… but Hermione had put her phone number in her most recent letter. He would have to ask the Dursleys to use the phone.

For once events were lining up in Harry’s favor, as Dudley had gone out to play and Vernon was at work. Aunt Petunia was feeling charitable after the dinner’s success. When Harry asked, her pinched mouth flattened into a straight line and she shooed him off with an “I suppose, keep it quick.”

“Hello, this is the Grangers’,” a friendly woman’s voice answered.

“Hello, this is Harry, I’m a friend of Hermione’s from school.”

“Oh, I didn’t think- erm, I’ll just go get her. I didn’t know people used phones there.” Harry tried not to laugh.

“I’m in a muggle household too, so we use phones,” he clarified, before Hermione was put on.

“Hello, Harry? We’ve been worried about you! Why haven’t you answered any of our owls? I sent you a few in regular mail, too, but I was beginning to think I got your whole address wrong. If only we could do magic at home I could have checked, but…”

“Easy, Hermione, my mail’s been blocked, I just got everyone’s letters yesterday.”

“Blocked? By who?” And he relayed the whole incident, complete with sound effects. “I’ll have to read up on house-elves again… I didn’t think they were so sad. They’re mentioned in a few texts, I’ll have to pull them.”

“Well, I was actually wondering how you sent mail without an owl.”

“Oh, I actually go down to Diagon Alley every few weekends. They’ve got a mail service there.” Harry groaned. “I take it that won’t work for you?”

“The Dursleys wouldn’t mind if I just took off indefinitely, but there’s no way they would actually take me there. I’ve got no transport. I don’t suppose you’d just let the others know why I couldn’t respond?”

“Of course. I’ll go tomorrow. I’m sure between the two of them Draco and Ron will know some wizarding way to get you in the loop.”

“Fantastic, thanks. Oh, no owls. Make sure you tell them I do not want an owl, Malfoy would just up and buy one and call it a problem solved.”

“Yes, we all know you and your thing against pets.”

“And against birds that eat snakes,”

“And against anything that eats snakes, ok.”

“I mean, it’s not responsible- Ok, Aunt Petunia. Yes. I’ve got to go, Hermione, thanks again.”

“Bye,” but Harry had already hung up.

\--

True to her word, Hermione spread the news. Just a week after the call, around sunset, a blue Ford Anglia pulled up to Number Four Privet Drive. It was decidedly out of place in the snobby neighborhood, but the car had nothing on the three ginger heads that came out of it. Fred, George, and Ron Weasley looked just like the description a wizard might give of a muggle. They had on jumpers, and jeans, and tennis shoes, and hats, but also jackets, and gloves, and one of the twins had rain boots on despite the sunshine.

“HARRY!” The twins shouted, and he could see the busybodies hustling out of their front doors. Harry was lucky to be watering the front when they arrived, as he had no idea they were coming and the Dursleys would be furious.

“Weasleys? What are you doing here? It’s great to see you, obviously, but what on earth are you doing with a muggle car? We can’t talk outside here, I’ll get in so much trouble…”

“Hullo Harry!” Ron bounced over and gave him a slap on the back for a greeting.

“Well, come inside, quick, or the neighbors will see…” He pulled the trio indoors. He checked their feet for mud, then dragged them upstairs before Petunia could come to ask if the watering was done.

He shut the door behind them. The Weasleys were looking around his room curiously.

“Well, it’s a nice enough room, Harry,”

“Especially since you’ve got it all to yourself, lucky blighter,”

“But it’s a little stark, don’t you think? No desire to hang up some posters? Quidditch? No, magical stuff, muggles…”

“Oh, no, I just started sleeping here last summer. I used to stay in the cupboard.”

“Where?” They echoed, but were interrupted.

“What’s going on up here? Boy, if you’re lazing about again…” Seeing the three redheads, she froze.

“Er, Aunt Petunia, these are some friends of mine.”

She paled. “From that place? Here! Get out of my house! Get out!” She stepped back out of the room and slammed the door.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, that was my Aunt Petunia, you’ve met now, so that’s great. Can I know why you’re here now? And how you got a car?”

“Well, we asked Hermione, and she said we’d better keep it on the ground and not arrive in the dead of night,”

“Which is BORING, let me say,” George interrupted.

“And we’d better ask your family’s permission,”

“Which we’ve got!” Fred finished.

“In a manner of speaking. So, uh, let’s get your things?”

“What?”

“Mum agreed! Sort of! So come on, Harry, stay with us until school starts.”

“Um… okay?”

His halfhearted, confused agreement set the twins to action, and all of Harry’s things were in the car before he could ask where they lived. He had pulled a disgruntled Seshhe out from under the bed, and the snake fell back asleep against the dip of his collarbones like a particularly grumpy scarf.

“Aunt Petunia?” He called through the house. She had disappeared, probably to hide with Dudley in front of the TV and pretend nothing was happening. “I suppose I’ll just leave a note,” he muttered to himself.

\--

Whichever twin was driving didn’t seem to have any idea what he was doing. The other twin would call out directions like some kind of game, and they ended up going the wrong way down a one-way street.

“Do you have any idea where you’re even going?” Harry tried not to screech.

“Of course! We’re going this way, then right, then turning on the invisibility booster and flying out of here.

“Oh,” Harry faltered. “I suppose that’s all right, then?”

“Don’t worry, Harry, we’ll be back to the Burrow in no time. That’s our house. It’s a bit much, lots of us, you know, but its home.

Harry must have made a sound, must have acknowledged this, but all of a sudden they were flying, and between hands gripping seat and stomach dropping Harry lost his head. He looked out the window. The whole country seemed spread out beneath them, and Harry thought he might hold his breath for the duration of the trip no matter how long.

He hushed Ron when he tried to laugh at Harry’s wonder, and just drank it in. Suburban manicured lawns gave way to trees, then to forests, and finally they arrived at a rather large, patchwork home. The sun was just starting to go down, and it set just to the side of the towering construction. A woman Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley waited in front of the home with hands on her hips. They had barely landed with a solid ‘thunk’ than she strode to the car and began to speak her mind.

“A note! Just la, mum, ‘We’re off to get Harry,’ like that’s an explanation! ‘Taken the car, don’t worry, be back soon?’” She fumed, but receded at the sight of him. “Oh, but it’s good to see you, lovely. Grown even since I saw you last! Ron’s just like that. Oh, your little familiar’s grown quite a bit too. We got that owl from Miss Granger, how you had some trouble with post and all, and I told Arthur, I did,” She ushered the lot of them into the house. “I said ‘Why don’t we invite him here, with Charlie off to Romania and all, and he’s been such a help to Ronald in his classes…’”

“Muuum…”

“And we’re ever so proud, of course, best first-year potions marks since Bill!” Seeming to be thoroughly over her anger, she was bustling them through to the kitchen.

“I don’t want to be good at potions…”

Harry kept one ear to the ongoing discussion of how proud Mrs. Weasley was of her brood and turned the rest of his attention to the house. Just as he thought he had a grasp on wizarding culture, he stepped into a whole new environment. The dishes were washing themselves. As he watched, Mrs. Weasley squinted at a cookbook then just… cooked up something with magic. The house itself seemed magical- a rug swept itself out of the way of a twin’s muddy boot, then a broom came to whack them until they took their shoes off. Harry was glad to see he was clean, and would not be abused by motivated housewares in the near future. He couldn’t think of any better word for it than magical.

“…And you wouldn’t happen to mind sharing Ron’s room, would you?” Harry tuned in.

“Not at all, Ma’am, that would be great.”

“Wicked, let’s go put his stuff up, then.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that note, boys! We will have words later!” She seemed tied up in her cooking, but she shot a glare over her shoulder to the twins.

“Yes, mum,” the three replied.

“She’ll forget all about it, you’ll see. She’s pretty excited to have the Boy-Who-Lived in the house, after all.”

Harry made a face but didn’t deign to answer. When Ron pushed open the door to his room for the twins to heft the trunk in, Harry was near blinded by Cannons Orange. He thought for a moment all the posters were actually wallpaper.

“Good luck sleeping, mate,” one of the twins muttered to him.

“It’s a bit loud, and we don’t mean the snores,”

“Though those are plenty disturbing.”

“Go on, get out,” Ron sniffed. When they obliged with much sighing and scraping, he turned to Harry. “Well we’ve got a few days ‘til we go get school stuff… what do you want to do first?”

\--

Harry grew to understand that he had no idea what happened in a wizarding household. He also had no idea what happened in a family of this size. Both were fascinating and a bit gross, and he thought maybe Ginny Weasley had a crush on him. That is, he thought it until the twins straight out confirmed it, and then he knew. Harry decided he was too young for girls and left it at that.

The house itself had plenty for two boys to get into trouble with, and that didn’t even include the grounds. They had a magical pest in the attic, which Harry was determined to avoid, and more in the garden which were impossible to get away from. He was a bit worried about Seshhe eating the little garden-dwellers, but he had no interest. Luckily, he could subsist longer on Harry’s magical output than when he was just a yearling so Harry only had to ask for a mouse once. Ron’s mom made a bit of a face, but she had raised six boys and had brothers besides, and was not a squeamish sort of woman.

Molly Weasley could straighten a shoelace or tidy a room with a wave of her wand. Somehow, even with all the benefits of magic, nothing ever seemed to stay done for long. Laundry, food, cleaning, pests, shopping… it was infinite. And very exciting. Days passed quickly, and before he knew it the shopping trip was upon them. They would travel by Floo.

Ron went through the fireplace first at Molly’s behest, but Harry was still wrapping his head around the whole teleportation-by-fire thing. Seshhe had decided to stay under the bed, and Harry was starting to think maybe that was the wiser choice.

“Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I didn’t quite catch it, I’d much rather watch the twins go through as well.”

“Right you are, Harry dear, go on boys. Listen how they enunciate, most important in Floo travel, else you’ll end up in some nonsense place…”

Harry did watch, and breathed, and felt a little calmer. So when he spun in a sickening tornado of green, he stumbled coughing right up beside Ron at the other end. Safe and sound.

“Come along family, books first,” Arthur led. “We’re set to meet the Grangers there, too. Very exciting, real muggles! I have questions all written out!”

\--

The book store was a bit of a nightmare, so they actually ended up there last. Harry scrambled through the crowd.

“Harry! _Harry Potter,_ come here,” Malfoy seemed to appear out of nowhere, tugging on his bag.

“Malfoy, it’s like we were never apart, you pulling me places, me being pulled…”

“I just saved you from an idiot, we’re square.” He waved towards the crowd below, which was clustered around a blonde man grinning maniacally.

“What is he, escaped convict?” Harry peered through the bars of the balcony, unwilling to lean over the side and be noticed.

“Worse, a celebrity.”

“Oh yes, I hate those. Famous people, urgh.”

Ron brushed against him in the crowd. “Not you, Harry, a real celebrity,” he piped cheerfully. “Hermione’s already gone aflutter, take a look,” and they did, and she was.

Lucius took this opportunity to sneak up on the group of boys, intentionally startling them when he tapped his cane against the floor. “Well, Mr. Weasley,” he sneered, “What a surprise to see you here, in a book shop. Here to get an autograph? Not satisfied with the ones from Mr. Potter?”

“Father,” Draco quelled. Lucius sniffed. “We were just headed for the school books, I’m quite finished browsing and I’d like to get out of here before a certain person with a lure for poor fortune acts up.”

Harry wanted to retort, but he knew what he was. He shrugged.

“Not so fast, Draco. If there’s one Weasley here there’s a herd, and wouldn’t it be rude not to say hello?” Draco opened his mouth to say no, it would be most wise to just get out and not say anything at all, when said family spotted them from below and called out.

Unfortunately, calling ‘Harry’ in a dense mob invites people to turn and stare. With the help of his friends, Harry managed to get out of the shop, only to burst onto a scene with Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley facing off.

“… You might have enough for secondhand books, then, not this garbage.” He reached into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron, only for Malfoy Jr. to speak up.

“Father, I’ve finished, let’s get going.” He stood stiffly at his father’s side.

“Not now, Draco, I’m merely having a civilized conversation,” Lucius shot his son a glare. Malfoy looked from his father to his friends. Harry wasn’t sure what he would do in a situation trapped between the two. “Or, I suppose, one that passes for it. Did you wash that cauldron with tar?”

“Mr. Malfoy, that’s quite enough,” Harry replied. We’re headed on our way, if you’d like to join us. Draco is welcome.” Lucius seemed to have trouble keeping Harry’s gaze. Draco took a step to the side.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid we’ve finished shopping already. Isn’t that right, Father?”

Lucius smiled, a thin unpleasant thing. “Draco, I fear your manners have suffered, keeping such company.”

“I think he’s more bearable than ever, at the moment,” Harry escalated. This meant Draco, while the topic of conversation, was kept out.

“I will thank you to keep your nose out of my family’s business, Mr. Potter…”

“And I would thank you to keep yours out of mine.” Harry shot back. Mr. Malfoy reared back, head high. Dramatic as his son, of course.

“Draco, we’re leaving.” Lucius spun on his heel and made to go, Draco shooting a look to Harry that was half thankful, half furious. Molly Weasley wrapped him up in a hug, walking him backwards as he tried to extricate himself. In the mess, he dropped his bag, and his new books spilled onto the cobblestones.

“Mrs. Weasley- Mrs. Weasley, my bag…” But she wouldn’t let him go for another full minute. Arthur was ensuring Ginny was ok, and nobody was in any hurry to pick up Harry’s things. Nobody noticed another slim volume joining the rest.

\--

Mrs. Weasley escorted Ginny through the portal to platform nine and three quarters, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione’s family all left. The Grangers still looked a bit queasy watching people disappear, and at Hermione’s reassurance that she would get to school they gratefully took off.

“We can’t stand around here all day, we’re pushing late as it is,” Hermione scolded. “Let’s head through already. You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

Harry shrugged. “We’ve got time.” But as they walked into the pillar it stayed remarkably solid. Brick solid. Harry’s arm hurt.

“Oh my god… it won’t let us through, we’re late, how can we be late?” Hermione’s voice was lowered, but her shrill whisper would start getting muggle attention soon. “They’re sounding the warning whistle as we speak! We can’t miss the bus! We- how would we get to school?” Just on the edge of panic, a calm voice cut her off.

“There you are. Come on, you’re late.” A signature blond stepped out of the gateway and ushered them through. They walked in with him, no trouble.

“We couldn’t get to the platform, but it seems to work now...” Draco frowned.

“It can all be worked out later, but you’d better get all your things on the train or they’ll leave with just my trunk, and I’ll be very irritated with all of you.”

“Right!” They ran to the train, and luckily only had to share with a glum-looking boy in unmarked robes. He had probably hoped to keep the car all to himself. Still, the stranger meant Harry couldn’t discuss possible nefarious plots with the others. They had to pass the train ride making small talk, which only bordered on interesting when they got on the topic of Malfoy senior.

“Does your dad actually have something against me?” Harry asked when the topic of Diagon Alley came up.

“Apart from the obvious past events?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I can’t imagine why he would have anything against you. One moment I could spin that I was hanging out with you for political gain, then you muck it all up with the parading about of what he calls mudbloods and blood traitors- No offense!” He hastily amends at Ron’s face. “But I’m not exactly his favorite son at the moment, and I’m the only son he’s got. Eleven years of perfection, then Harry Potter comes along with his inexcusable allies and I’m one of them. I think he blames you for wrecking his plans, really.”

“Hm. I actually think I’m kind of flattered.” The boy in the car is staring at him now, and he reddens a bit. He doesn’t think he could get used to the whole fame thing.

“What… oh, come on, really? Yes, Harry Potter, in this car, go back to your book.” The Ravenclaw puffed out his cheeks a bit.

“I’m Lucas Mathews. First-year, half-blood. It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Hullo Lucas. I’m Harry, this is Hermione, Ron, and Draco.” Lucas nodded and returned to his book. He looked a bit flushed. The book’s title was _Fun Flips and Terrifying Tumbles: What’s Safe to Do on a Broom_.

“Right, what were we talking about? My father doesn’t hate you. He’s off-balance, and he hates that. He doesn’t know how to plan around you.”

“Maybe he should keep his plans to himself, then. Leave me out of it.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Harry, but you do tend to get us into trouble,” Hermione added.

“Not on purpose! Besides, that small thing I told you about? That I found over the break, when I got all your letters? It told me whatever happens this year doesn’t have to do with me or the other guy.”

“Oh great, so something will happen.” Ron might have meant to sound sarcastic, but he just seemed excited.

“I’m sure it will be as normal a year as possible at Hogwarts,” Hermione frowned. “We should just stay out of whatever strange business comes up and go to school.”

“Right.” And the train pulled in.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was half expecting to go on the same boat ride as last year, but Hagrid led the first-years off. The rest of them filed over to horseless horse-drawn carriages. They followed the crowd into the Great Hall and to their respective tables. Harry sat through the speeches and the school song, and witnessed the youngest Weasley get sorted. The Gryffindor table seemed extra orange. Harry felt restless.

“Malfoy, do you get the feeling you’ve forgotten something?”

Draco had been stuffing his face, but ceased for a bare moment. “No, not really. Why, do you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just that nagging feeling, you know?”

“Mother says that’s one indicator of inherent magic.” Draco spoke absently as he reached for another slice of roast beef. He was building some sort of sandwich. “She says that instinct can be one of a wizard’s strongest tools.”

Zabini added, “My mum says that, but it was closer to ‘A wizard without instinct is a dead wizard’. If you think you’ve forgotten something, you probably have. And it’s probably important.”

“Well that’s great and all, but it doesn’t help me remember what’s wrong. Hey,” Harry frowned. “Where’s Nott?”

Malfoy shrugged, but Zabini replied, “He’s down in the dorm already. He asked the prefects for the password, just so he could go before the sorting. Said he had a headache.”

“Weird.”

“Theo’s just like that sometimes,” he waved a hand.

“I don’t remember him having headaches last year,” Harry pointed out. Zabini hummed in response, and Harry let it go. It wasn’t his business. “Anyway, maybe I was just thrown off, expecting to see him here.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. That or you’ll bring it down on all our heads again, like last year.” Draco had completed his sandwich, and eyed it critically. It was structurally unsound. “Just ignore it and eat. You’ve hardly touched anything.”

“The Weasleys had some obsession with feeding me.” Harry made a face. “I don’t think I can be hungry for a few weeks, minimum.”

“Despite the source…” Zabini eyed him. “You could use a few more meals. You’ve shot up near half a foot since first year, and you were skinny then.”

“It’s a strategy, see, he’s streamlined. He has to run away from all the mess he kicks up.” Malfoy laughed at his own joke.

“You’re not a very good friend, you know.”

“Correct, I’m a great friend. If I was nice to you, you’d know something was wrong.”

Harry bumped his elbow in response, and the creation toppled, smearing some sort of sauce on Malfoy’s hands. Harry laughed, and let himself forget.

\--

Harry spared a wink for the Slytherin Serpent over the fireplace as they trudged after the prefects. It nodded back. Nott had his curtains pulled when they got in, and Harry was too tired and full to bother him. He crawled into his familiar bed and fell right to sleep.

\--

The next morning, Harry didn’t feel any better. His stomach kept bugging him with little butterflies, like he hadn’t studied for a test or he had to give a speech. He didn’t want to bring it up, given the reaction last night. The Slytherin boys headed into breakfast together. Nott was quiet, but that was nothing new.

Once they all had their schedules they headed in different directions, Zabini and Nott to Charms and Harry and Malfoy to Herbology. Herbology classes were apparently split, given the practicality of fitting thirty students into a greenhouse.

\--

Herbology was nice. They had earmuffs on, so they couldn’t talk, and repotting mandrakes took enough concentration that Harry couldn’t think of anything else. It was nothing like Muggle gardening, and he was grateful for his dragonhide gloves when a mottled root tried to take a bite out of him. He could only hope the rest of the first day back was as sunny.

\--

Lunch was determined to prove him wrong. Ron and Hermione sat at the Slytherin table with them, which Harry had anticipated. He did not anticipate their tiny hanger-on.

“Colin Creevey,” the boy beamed. Harry thought he had never seen such a small and sunny boy. He can’t have been that small just last year, right? “I know all about you, Harry Potter! With the scar and the You-Know-Who and don’t you just think magic is amazing? They have moving pictures! Can I take one? Thanks!” The bulb flashed.

Harry blinked away spots. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, huh?” Ron sniggered. “Paparazzi all over you.” Harry detected a hint of jealousy.

“Oh, shove off, Ronald, you only have to quit eating pudding and look at him to see he’s uncomfortable,” Pansy Parkinson emerged from somewhere in the sea of black and green to throw in her two cents. “Here,” she held her hand out the Creevey, who suddenly looked a bit less ecstatic. He edged away. “I’m not going to steal it or anything, Merlin,” she rolled her eyes and took the camera. “Budge in, there,” she called, and Colin sat next to Harry with a squeak. “Now face this way and smile, Potter.” She looked up from the camera. “Not like it’s hurting you. Give him one picture and he’s gone.” Harry tried to oblige. “There. Not so hard, is it?”

As the Creevey boy scurried off to his own house, a bit dazed-looking, Malfoy observed, “That was awfully nice of you, Parkinson.”

“Not at all. Now he won’t bother us again,” she sniffed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He looked awfully taken with you.” Zabini fluttered his eyelashes in a disturbing way.

Trying to avoid a Slytherin brawl, Harry interjected, “Thanks, Parkinson. I haven’t the slightest idea how to deal with people like that.”

Settling, Pansy replied, “Rude people, you mean. Tromping up in the middle of lunch, just like a Gryffindor, no offense, you two, you’re practically honorary Hufflepuffs…”

“Hey,” Ron started, though Hermione was halfway through what Harry thought might be a Lockhart text. Seeing no backup, Ron resumed eating grumpily.

“How was your summer, Parkinson?” She set off on a tale about a cousin that from anyone else’s mouth would sound preposterous, but she made sound commonplace. He barely got that cosmetics were involved, and a type of household pest, and an unwanted suitor. By the end of lunch he could hardly remember the boy with the camera, which may or may not have been her goal. Slytherins were kind when they pleased, and for reasons only they understood.

\--

Harry and Malfoy had settled near the back of the class. Most of the front was girls, and Harry laughed as he pointed out Ron. The Weasley was slightly flushed, smack in the middle of a sea of women. He must have walked in with Hermione, then sat with her and one of the Patil sisters. The Gryffindor twin, Harry remembered. Must be Parvati.

The new professor swept down the staircase into the room. “Isn’t he…“

“That dandy from the bookshop? Yeah. Don’t you read your schedule? He’s totally useless, too, Father says,” But Malfoy was cut off from relaying what his father undoubtedly sneered at.

“CHILDREN! Welcome to the very first class of what could very well shape the rest. Of. Your. Life.” At each pause he made meaningful eye contact with a witch in the classroom. Hermione blushed so hard he thought he could see it through her hair.

Ron made eye contact from across the classroom and raised his eyebrows. Harry rolled his eyes at him.

“And for this first class, though I thought of giving a quick pop quiz…” He paused for the groans. Harry was one of them; he hadn’t even bothered looking at what he assumed was evil propaganda. He didn’t even bring them to class. “Instead I have brought a little practical demonstration!” He gave a quick thwack to the covered item beside him, and it rattled. It kept rattling. Harry didn’t really want to see what was inside, but Lockhart seemed pretty determined to pull off the covering and reveal…

“Pixies?” Someone questioned.

“Yes, Pixies! Freshly caught! Devilishly cunning, but no match for a good witch or wizard… why don’t you just have at them?”

“ _Have at them?”_ Draco mouthed in horror.

 

“Have at them!” He mocked thirty minutes later, as all four of them marched down the hall to lunch. “Just go on, I’ll be heading to my office, don’t let them destroy everything or kill Neville Longbottom!”

“Well, teaching isn’t his calling… maybe he’ll get better?” Hermione rallied, but even she couldn’t find anything heroic about Lockhart’s lesson.

“Give it up, Hermione. He’s got shiny teeth, but he couldn’t take care of one measly pixie.” Ron might have gotten the worst of it, Neville aside. A whole chunk of his hair had been sheared off. “Do you think if I just shaved the rest of this part it would be, like, a fashion statement?” He ran his hand through his dramatically shortened mane.

“Oh, all right, never say I don’t do anything for you,” Malfoy pointed his wand at Ron, who stopped in the hall.

“What, hex me?”

“No, numbskull. Hold still.” He concentrated and waved his wand in a complicated way, then murmured an incantation Harry didn’t catch. “There.”

“Ooh, that’s much better!” Hermione exclaimed. It was actually much better. It had grown out a bit in the affected area, but the rest of his hair had shortened to match it in a much more flattering style than the semi-bowl-cut Ron usually wore.

“Family styling charm,” Malfoy slid his wand back into his robes coolly.

“What, did he really shave it?” Ron panicked.

The Patil twins picked a good time to walk down the hall. “Nice haircut, Ron,” one noticed.

“Is it? Have either of you got a mirror? Malfoy’s just fixed it, and I don’t trust him.” Draco wouldn’t deign to wrinkle his nose, but he looked affronted all the same. A twin produced an ornate hand mirror.

“Do girls just carry those things around?” Harry whispered to Hermione. She looked at him like he was crazy and shrugged.

“Oh, it’s good. Thanks, Malfoy. Thanks, Parvati.” He handed the mirror back. Harry figured Ron had telling twins apart down to an art, but he couldn’t.

“I’ll just forget that you thought I did a bad job, shall I?”

“Yeah, ta.” Malfoys didn’t sputter, so he marched into the Great Hall.

“Go show off, Ronald, we’ll see you two later.” He waved them off to Gryffindor.

\--

“Hey,” Ron started in the middle of the first study session of the year, that Saturday. They didn’t have much to study, honestly, other than Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Harry wondered if Lockhart would deign to design real coursework anytime soon. “You guys going to try out for Quidditch? I can’t get Hermione into it, but you used to play a bit in flying lessons. Going to finally give Gryffindor a challenge?”

“All the Gryffindors on one team couldn’t take us,” Malfoy riposted easily. “I thought perhaps I would abstain to give you a chance, but now…”

“I’d love to try out for the team. The sign-up sheet is nearly full in the common room, though, and I doubt I’m any match for the older students.”

“Rubbish, they’d put you on the team just as a block. The other houses would be too scared of hurting our celebrity Potter, couldn’t mess up that kicked puppy dog face.”

“Please don’t say celebrity, it calls the beast,” he interjected quickly, which caught a small laugh. Hermione frowned.

But Ron was not to be deterred. “Mind your own, Malfoy. Come on, Harry, try out. You made that wicked catch last year. Flint would be mad not to take you.”

Harry shrugged. “If there’s still time, I’ll put my name in I guess.”

\--

That was a very good decision, as it turned out Malfoy had already signed them up ages ago.

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Why would I? We talked about this since last year!”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he protested.

“If you wanted principles, you should have picked a different house,” Draco replied haughtily. Harry hissed under his breath, which called out Seshhe for a brief moment.

Inviting his snake closer, he continued, “But you just spring it on me, and tryouts are tomorrow! I didn’t have time to prepare!”

“You wouldn’t have if you just signed up now, either.”

“I would have been emotionally ready.” He sniffed. “I haven’t even flown since last year. Do I use a school broom?”

“I forgot you don’t have your own.” Draco frowned. “Why didn’t you get one before school?”

“I wasn’t thinking about it. Couldn’t I mail-order one?”

Nott threw a magazine directly at Harry’s head. It connected with a satisfying smack. “I’m trying to sleep,” he grumbled, and closed his curtains again.

Whoops, Harry mouthed to Draco, who shrugged in return. Harry retrieved the magazine to see it was actually a broomstick catalogue, and the two of them went downstairs to the common room. They stayed up entirely too late debating price points and features, with the silver Serpent above them drowsing.

\--

Tryouts were murder. In fine Slytherin fashion, they changed the tryout time, which weeded out a few applicants too slow or busy to change plans. They then sent the remaining applicants through a grueling set of tasks, from the expected catch at two hundred feet to straight races. Every so often they would call out a name and eliminate them. That whittled it down to five: Draco, Harry, and three others Harry didn’t know, but they looked mean. Also huge, even the girl. Draco looked a bit intimidated.

“We’ve got three spots, as you know. Higgs quit, so Seeker,” Flint paused to collect his thoughts, such as they were. Harry wondered how he got to be captain if he forgot his own team. “Also Bletchley was foul last year, so he’s out. That’s Keeper. Uhh, Pucey-”

“Still here, Flint,” a dry voice rang out from the stands where the remnants of the Slytherin team sat with friends.

“Right, it was Bole. He’s out by Snape’s order, some disciplinary thing. So that’s Beater.”

“Damn,” Malfoy muttered under his breath. At Harry’s look, he continued, “Flint wrote Chaser on sign-up. Looks like we’ll fight for Seeker then, Potter. Best flier win.” He grinned. Harry, too, was a bit caught up in the combative spirit.

What followed couldn’t be expressed as a series of events, but more of a mess. The team came down from the stands and made a team of four, counting Flint. They played Quidditch.

Harry had never played a game with full teams before, just catch. It didn’t help that the school broom he had borrowed had a distinct lean to it, and hesitated when he changed direction too quickly. But he was small and fast, and the rest of the team was not. He was distinctly reminded of Harry Hunting. The five-man team stayed ahead through a mix of superior numbers and tricks, though it was obvious they were less practiced than the veterans. Flint called one of the others out, then it was four against four. They added another Quaffle, and someone had to actually take up the Keeper position for both sides. Flint’s Keeper was terrible- Derrick, if he remembered right. His body was near large enough to block a hoop as it was, but he used it all wrong. Their team fought over it a bit, and another player was called out.

It was just Harry, Draco, and the girl. She rocketed to the other side of the pitch, and Draco was closest, so he took up Keeper. There were only three of them left in tryouts, so Flint had to fix the places between them, right? But the game continued. A wave from below caught his eye, and then a helpful Slytherin released the snitch. Harry swooped after it, nearly brained himself on his own cheap school broomstick, and caught it in the end, breathing hard. Both teams landed. Draco pouted a bit, but couldn’t restrain a grin.

“Alright, you two are a bit scrawny for the team but we’ll see if we can bulk you up. Good seeking, good keeping, you, good flying. You’ve all made the team, practice Friday evenings, get cleaned up, congratulations.” His speech done, Flint turned to the rest of the team and they headed to the locker rooms.

“We did it! I don’t think I could have just sat and watched Gryffindor beat us again.” The girl stuck out her hand to shake. “Runiwen Logsdoddy, call me Logs, new Slytherin Beater. Not that I could show off, with Flint’s test. My da’s dark secret is he loves Muggle baseball, would enchant things to throw themselves at me since I could swing a bat.” She was actually a bit shorter than Harry thought at first, with the pinched kind of face he was coming to associate with purebloods. She had short-cropped brown hair and a toothy, threatening smile.

“Muggle baseball?” Draco edged hesitantly.

“Think of a team of all beaters, on the ground.” Harry wasn’t about to correct the mess of that statement. Draco’s expression as he imagined a ton of bludgers was pretty great, though. “I’m a fifth year, but you two are second, right? I’m sure you’ll grow into the uniform. If you haven’t noticed, Captain Flint’s strategy is that strategy is for lesser mortals. Bye!” She ran off to join a group of similarly strong-looking girls.

“Why is it that every girl we meet is terrifying?” Harry asked.

“Witches,” Draco replied solemnly.

“Right. Let’s get set up with our lockers before we go.” Draco shrugged in answer.

They were barely in the door as Flint knocked into Harry. He grunted what may have been an apology before he backed up and actually looked at him.

“Well, shit, you’re Harry Potter.” Harry, a bit muddy, sweaty, and worse for wear, smiled at him.

“That’s me!”

“Alright.” Flint continued past him, out the lockers to the pitch. Harry thought that was rather nice.

The Slytherin identified as Pucey waved them down and got them sorted. “Don’t worry about Flint. He’s not a bad Captain, just likes to think about one thing at a time. Right now he’s thinking about the Charms essay he hasn’t done. I’m Adrian Pucey, I play Chaser. The others on the team are Marcus Flint, Chaser, Graham Montague, Chaser, Peregrine Derrick, Beater. Not that you need to remember all that. Here are your numbers. Oh, you might want to get real brooms, too. Gryffindors always get to the broom closet first, and all the wonky ones are left. Ta.”

Harry’s head spun with information, but he couldn’t help grinning. No matter what Malfoy said, it didn’t seem to matter who he was here so long as he could find a little golden snitch.

\--

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. He was filled with inane imaginings of being hoisted above the Slytherin class as he won the Quidditch cup for them. He knew that for one thing Slytherins did not _hoist_. For another, it was a team sport. Third, he thought maybe half the house would rather step on him. Yikes. He peeked under the bed, but Sesshe was already asleep. He grumbled and splayed out once more across his covers. To calm himself down, he thought to pull the book most likely to send him snoring: _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_. No disturbing Transfigurations, no plants or animals that would like to kill and or eat you. Lockhart’s books would probably make him laugh, cry, or scream. But for some reason, they were all he could find in his trunk. Lockhart, Lockhart, Lockhart. The man’s smirking face flashed up at him so many times he took to slapping his palm down on it before it could wink. He imagined the tiny face under his hand looking very, very disgruntled. He knew he shouldn’t take such joy from it.  Finally his hand wrapped around a shape that didn’t have that crinkly iridescent binding. He pulled up a slim, leather-bound book and frowned. He didn’t remember having anything like this. Maybe a gift? It seemed like a Hermione thing to give as a present. He turned it over in his hands. T. M. Riddle.

Harry looked for any further identifying marks and found none. Maybe it had gotten mixed up in his things? He unwound the cord keeping it closed and opened it up to find nothing. Blank pages. He touched the center of a page. It was nice paper, a serviceable leather binding. Why wouldn’t the owner write in it? Maybe Riddle was a maker’s mark? But he didn’t think so. He sat on the middle of his bed and flipped through. Nothing. He pulled out a pen from his bag and changed his mind. Pulling what he needed from his things, he padded on bare feet out into the common room. Greeting the Serpent, who seemed to have recently eaten the mouse, he settled on the outcropping under the window that served as a bench for desperate students.

Harry wondered how to begin a blank notebook. Obviously with his best handwriting. Did he write his name on it, in contradiction to T. M. Riddle’s on the back? It felt a bit wrong. He got comfortable in front of the window, only a bit of light filtering down through the lake. He pulled his feet up off the cold floor. His socks itched. He adjusted his makeshift desk, though it was really just _Holidays with Hags_ in his lap. He couldn’t go wrong with the date, right?

He inscribed very carefully, on the second page, in the top right corner: September 19, 1992.

The back of his neck prickled, and he looked up. Only the Serpent looked back, content to watch the only living thing in the room. It might have unsettled another boy, but Harry merely asked about his meal.

“ _Satisfactory.”_ It replied simply, before covering its face with its pale coils and turning away. Not a talker, Harry hummed to himself. He looked down to the journal, only to see that his writing had faded away. Blinking furiously, he flipped the page over and looked at the back. The ink hadn’t bled or sank, just disappeared. Magic. He ran his finger over the place the numbers had been.

As he watched, a blemish rose near the top of the page, in the middle. “Hello,” Harry read out loud.

He debated slamming the cover closed and burying the book in his trunk again. But that would be very rude. Could one be rude to an inanimate object? He decided to err on the side of caution.

_Hello_ , he wrote back.

**_My name is Tom Riddle. This is my book._ ** Oh, Harry thought. That is both more and less terrifying. He supposed there might be some spell to make a sheet of paper respond to given words. That didn’t make it sentient. But it also didn’t preclude it. Harry shivered.

Apparently, he took too long to write back. **_What is your name?_** Harry didn’t entirely want to say. It was a strange book, with a strange enchantment… oughtn’t he give it to a teacher? **_Would you like to know something interesting? I know everything about Hogwarts._** Maybe it was a sort of encyclopedia?

He hesitated. _Where are you from?_

This question took longer to answer. **_I was a student here starting in the year 1938. This diary was a companion to me, and became what it is today at the end of my fifth year._**

_How did you know we’re at Hogwarts?_

**_Magic._** Figured.

_Are you a spell?_

**_Of a sort._** Harry wrinkled his nose. _Were you a Slytherin?_

**_Is it obvious?_ ** Harry smiled slightly. _To a fellow Slytherin. You talk like one_

He wondered at how quickly the diary had gone from a threat to a conversation. But it didn’t seem like a simple spell, or at least not any kind he knew of.

_Can you really tell me everything about the castle?_

**_Try me._ **

_But I don’t know what I don’t know_

**_Then allow me to share a small secret. Did you know that at a certain time of night, while in the common room with the fire banked, there is a certain place to stand? When you stand in the right place at the right time, there is an illusion._ **

_What do you see?_

**_Something beautiful._** That wasn’t cryptic or suspicious.

_Where and when?_

**_Precisely 11:47 at night, the largest flagstone in the corner with the bookshelf that leans._ **

_There is no bookshelf that leans_

**_To the right of the hearth, eight steps. The stone shaped into three points._** Harry tracked the steps and stood there, then monitored his watch. He was lucky to see 11:20.

_I’ll look for it._ He hesitated to close the book, though he received no answer. He sat. The minutes ticked by slowly. The Serpent did not want to talk. He was nearly desperate enough to begin reading Lockhart when the minute ticked over and he stood. He thought for a moment he had been tricked, but the illusion slid into place. The windows to the Black Lake oozed and spread, until there seemed to be no wall at all. Then the floor. It is no warmer, but even his own breathing seems muffled, like the world is far away, like he’s pulled blankets over his head. Safe. It’s like he’s floating freely, timeless.

Until, of course, time is up. The illusion pops away, and Harry is left standing on a three-pointed stone, diary held open in his hands. He scribbles a quick _Thank you,_ and goes to bed. He tucks the diary safe under his pillow, a secret.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Bullying and bad decision making ahead.

In the morning he told Seshhe all about the diary and his adventure the previous night.

The snake obligingly flicked his tongue out over the closed cover, sensing for magic. “ _It doesn’t smell like anything.”_

“ _That doesn’t mean much to me,”_ Harry admitted.

His familiar flicked his tail back and forth a few times, a sign of indecision. “ _Maybe nothing. Maybe powerful magic. Maybe it picked up your magical signature, so I couldn’t sense anything from it.”_

 _“That’s helpful.”_ Harry tucked the book back under his pillow and got ready for the day. “ _Want to come with me today? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time under the bed,”_ he teased.

“ _More comfortable than you.”_

“Are you talking to yourself in there, Potter?” Zabini growled. Sometimes he wasn’t the best morning person. Harry heard a muffled thump and pulls back his curtains to see that Nott had thrown one of his pillows across that side of the room, through Zabini’s drapes and hit him.

“Nice shot.” He got a groan in return. It sounded like Nott was using his other pillow to cover his head. “You know you have to get up anyway.” Nott groaned louder and stuck a hand out the curtains to gesture rudely. “Fine.”

“ _Ready,”_ his familiar had curled along his waist. Except Harry had grown since the last time he tried this, particularly in the waistline, and when he moved the snake slipped down. “ _Hey.”_

“ _Sorry, Seshhe. I think I’ve gotten bigger.”_ He pulled Seshhe up to eye level to receive a dirty glare, then Seshhe looked him over.

“ _I don’t want to go in a pocket or a bag,”_ he whined. “ _Around your neck?_ ” Harry vetoed that idea, thinking it would get them caught. However, as hard as they thought they couldn’t find an alternative, and both are too stubborn to back down. Harry settled him around his neck, and they found that so long as he doesn’t squeeze it’s actually easier for Seshhe to hold on that way, which meant less moving around and less giggling. Thank the wizarding world for highly concealing clothing. Settling his bookbag carefully and reminding his familiar to mind his tail, they set off to learn some magic.

\--

“A party?” Harry echoed Zabini the next morning, sitting on his own bed across from him. It had only been a day, but his fingers itched to pick up the diary again. This was as good a distraction as any.

“Obviously we couldn’t go last year, as first-years. I honestly wondered about you, but so far you’ve attempted to keep a low profile, so you’re in.”

“Does Professor Snape know about this?”

“It’s Slytherin tradition to have our own equinox party. I’m sure it was when he was here, too. He turns a blind eye, I’ve heard, so long as we don’t get obnoxious.” Malfoy looked like he was attempting to read a book on potions, but he kept blinking slower and slower.

“I thought Professor Snape always found us obnoxious.”

“You, maybe.” Malfoy gave up and closed his book. He yawned. “Now if you all will excuse me, I will retire. We’ve got double Transfiguration tomorrow with the Ravenclaws, and if that prissy Michael Corner upstages me again we’re going to have words.” He pulled the drapes around his bed. The rest of them followed, but after Harry closed his own curtains he pulled the diary from its hiding place.

 

 _Hello Tom._ Harry waited a moment, but only a moment. There was something powerful in knowing the diary was only waiting for him to write in it. If he left the diary closed, the thing within would never speak.

 ** _Hello, Reader._** He wouldn’t tell his name just yet. Tom’s diary would have been before the whole Voldemort thing, but it was still an enchanted object and therefore Suspicious, according to Arthur Weasley.

 _When you were at school here, did they have an autumnal equinox party?_ He waited as even script pooled across the page.

**_Of course. Equinoxes and eclipses are powerful times for magic. Astronomy is not just a way to fill a young witch or wizard’s schedule. A party, while juvenile, provides an outlet for the energy generated by such a surge._ **

_What was it like?_

**_Would you like to see?_** Harry was hesitant, but curious. Curious enough to throw Slytherin self-preservation to the wind and experience the 1940’s? He decided he was.

 _So long as it won’t-_ he paused. What did he want to write? Hurt? So long as it didn’t affect him in any way?

 ** _Trust me_** and he was whipped off in a spray of light, down into the past, into another boy’s memory...

 

It took a moment for him to get his bearings. He was in the Slytherin common room, and everything felt a bit off. The room was crowded with students. Swanky, was Harry’s first impression. Very swanky. Obviously Tom came from a more fashionable time. He felt very out of place in his pajamas. But the Serpent was the same, and Harry registered a leaning bookcase to the right of it, just as Tom had described. Slytherins milled about and laughed, brandishing crystal goblets. A singularly tall brunette gestured too broadly, nearly spilling on a passerby. Luckily, the boy laughed it off, no harm done, and tipped his own drink in her direction. His path took him right through Harry, and he braced himself for the ice of a ghost only to feel nothing. It was a memory of a book, he recalled. Of course he wouldn’t be present. They all seemed so cheerful and vivacious it was hard to believe they were old by now. Harry knew the students were speaking, but their voices seemed muffled.

He turned in a full circle, drinking it in. Where was Tom? If Harry were to bet he would put money on the boy sitting on a table against the wall. He had to be a few years older than Harry. He was the only one wearing regular robes. His school tie was just barely pulled out of alignment, his hair slightly off-perfect. He looked relaxed despite the crowd around him. As Harry watched, he pulled his wand and gestured wordlessly. A flock of green and silver butterflies erupted to flit about the room. He traced the toe of his shoe on the flagstone beneath him. He was just barely too short to brace his feet.

Harry made his way through the party to the boy’s side. He was sure now that this was the diary’s resident. The memory was more intense here, clearer. He half-expected Tom to see him, but he kept talking to his many admirers. Harry studied him at his leisure. Doubtless the diary Tom had expected him to roam the party, but he was more interesting. Dark hair, dark eyes, an ever-present smile turned on one student after another. There was something so familiar about him. Harry wished he would stop talking and smiling for just a moment, so he could figure it out. But the scene began to fade, and Harry found himself back in his bed, in his own time. He closed the book.

As he turned to tuck it back under his pillow, he stopped. It may have been safe enough there through the day, but he couldn’t depend on that again. It would be safer to keep it with him. Much safer, he thought to himself as he tucked one hand under his pillow. His fingers traced the binding. It was such a useful thing, he should keep it with him.

\--

When they woke, the common room had been decorated with a tasteful layer of fall all around, glittering star charts on the walls and arching lights across the ceiling. The Serpent’s painting had a tinge of autumn to the tree. It had started to storm in the night and looked to keep going. Of course this wouldn’t hamper the revelry way down in the dungeons, but the lake was darker than usual outside the windows, and the thunder filtered all the way through the floor.

Harry woke in a foul mood for some reason, and it grew worse through the day. First, Seshhe strongly declined going out in the rain. Then in Charms, they had begun studying the stopping charm, _Arresto Momentum._ He wasn’t focusing properly, and his aggravation made it worse. Harry had been hit in the face by no fewer than twelve projectiles. He thought maybe Malfoy enjoyed pelting him with them too much. As a nice little surprise, the projectiles were water balloons. Magical water balloons, where there was no balloon but instead just a nice little spherical ball of water, which by design was very cold. Then, they walked through the icy rain to the greenhouse, only to figure out that Professor Sprout was out, and they had waited in the rain for about half an hour for a cancelled class. The four Slytherin roommates tromped all the way back to the hall outside the common room, where they found Snape in rare form. He practically hissed at them as they passed.

“Stop dripping on the floor!” He roared, and directed a shot of hot air at them before stalking off. Their robes were finally dry.

“What do you think happened to him?” Malfoy asked, smoothing his hair back. If his looked like that, then Harry’s… Malfoy started to laugh. “Merlin, your hair! Quick, Zabini, grab a picture, it’s bound to fall,” and Harry quickly covered it with his hands before anyone could really capture the image forever. Malfoy and Zabini were practically in hysterics, and Nott gave an awkward little smile. Harry was about to race into the dorm so he could attempt to fix it somehow when Bole came up to them.

“What are you lot laughing about? You think it’s funny?” Bole was steaming mad, and Harry mentally drew a line between him and Snape. “You must think it’s great, me being thrown off the team. Replaced by two little worms,” he pushed the two of them, “and a girl. We’re going to be crushed this year, and it’s your fault.”

“They didn’t make you cheat on your potions final, Bole.” Nott sneered. The older boy turned even redder.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” he repeated clearly and loud enough for the whole common room to hear, “they didn’t make you so stupid that you couldn’t pass Potions by yourself. And if you had any kind of brain in that soft head of yours, you’d apologize to Professor Snape so he’d stop taking it out on the whole school.”

Bole looked stunned for a second, then snarled and pushed past them to the hall. Slytherin house returned to their studies, though a few stared at Nott. “Wow,” Zabini huffed, impressed. “Didn’t know you had it in you. Best lay low now, he’s got a hell of a temper and you’ve just aimed him.”

“He was going to harass us anyway, I might as well tell him what I think.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“Well, I thought it was pretty cool,” Harry grinned. “I bet Bole can count how many people have stood up to him on one hand.”

“That’s awful high to count, for him,” Malfoy laughed. “Did he really make the mistake of cheating in Potions?”

“Yeah. Heard him whining about nearly being thrown out.”

Harry shivered. He wouldn’t say it, but he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even Bole, who deserved it. Kicked out of Hogwarts, back to his old life? He’d rather fight Fluffy bare-handed.

\--

Harry wasn’t sure what to wear to a house party. He certainly couldn’t emulate the people from Tom’s time, with their rakish cut robes and flashy accessories. He also couldn’t bring himself to ask the Purebloods. They would know, but they would give him a lot of hell before they told him.

Looking into his wardrobe, he thought that at least he didn’t have that many choices. He couldn’t wear his muggle clothes. They were all still Dudley’s hand-me downs, too big and hideous. He couldn’t wear his school robes. He pulled out the one other set in the closet.

“Nice,” Zabini commented behind him. “Wearing those to the party? I was half-horrified you were going in muggle stuff. It’s not all bad, but honestly yours is the worst. Is that your style? Bad?”

“It’s not a style, it’s called secondhand,” he comments, looking over the robes he’s pulled out. He definitely didn’t remember buying them.

“Secondhand?” He gaped. “What, are muggle clothes that expensive?”

“No, they’re from my cousin. Hey, are you sure these aren’t yours? Or Nott’s, or Malfoy’s? They were in here, but I didn’t buy them. I think.”

“Gross. No, they definitely look like they’d fit you.” He pulled the robes from his hand to pin them to Harry. “You must have gotten them and just forgot.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” He was way too careful with his money for that. Maybe they were a gift? Maybe Malfoy was just embarrassed by him. “Hey, Malfoy! Did you get these?”

He came over, too. “No, why would I get you robes? What am I, your sister?”

“Is that a thing sisters do?” Zabini asked.

“I think so.” Malfoy shrugged. “Actually, you know what, these look a bit like Father’s style. Modified, of course.”

“Why on earth would your father’s robes be hanging in my wardrobe, all the way at school?” Harry whined. This was a stupid mystery.

“I didn’t say my father’s robes, I said his style. If he sends it to you, etiquette demands a return gift or acknowledgement of a favor owed. This way, no hassle.”

“Ugh, Pureblood etiquette,” Harry groaned. “Why would your father sneak me robes, then?”

“You’ve hardly got any clothes,” Zabini noted.

“Yeah, he probably knew you wouldn’t have anything to wear to the party,” Malfoy brightened. “That’s a great sign, I was worried he hated you after that whole Weasley debacle.”

Harry set the robes out on his bed as they all began to get ready. “What happened with the Weasleys?”

“You were there, you saw how they are. Father calls them Blood-traitors, but honestly at this point he’s just being dramatic. There’s not much to betray. They are a pain in the arse, though. Ronald included.”

“I was where?” Harry poked his head out of the bathroom. “And don’t call Ron that, you love Ron.”

“I certainly do not! He’s annoying and not a suitable friend for a Malfoy.” He paused to look suitably affronted before he picked up the second train of their conversation. “You know, outside the bookstore.”

“He’s a suitable friend inside a bookstore?”

“No, Potter! You got in the middle of the fight, between my Father and the Weasley.” Harry frowned and adjusted his new robes as he came out of the bathroom.

“When was this?”

“Right before school started, when we first saw Lockhart.”

“I-” He paused and sat down on his bed. “I remember you being in the bookstore, and there were lots of people, and we got out fast with all our books. Hermione’s parents were there, and Ginny had all Ron’s old books. But your father wasn’t there.” Malfoy looked at him a moment before his gaze shuttered and he turned away.

“My mistake, then. I’ll let Father know you appreciated the robes, shall I?” Harry realized that the strange conversation was over, and the other two itched to head down the hall to the party already.

“That would be great, thanks.” But Malfoy seemed angry, and Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he did something wrong. He had only met Mr. Malfoy once, after Voldemort in first year. Right?

\--

Harry was a bit disappointed by the Autumnal Equinox party. Sure, the common room looked beautiful, and all the girls looked nice, and all the boys were on their best behavior. The snake had found a hat somewhere, and was showing it off. But it didn’t have the same feeling as Tom’s party. People were too awkward, too divided. Where a spilled drink there invited laughter, here it encouraged cattiness and a cold shoulder. Even among fellow Slytherin, things were tense. The girls in the corner were teasing Millicent Bulstrode for bringing her cat, though familiars passed through the common room every day. Harry had wound through the crowd until he found himself up against the far wall, where Tom had sat in the vision. He put his back to it and looked over the room. Zabini had set straight to enjoying the party, infiltrating a circle of girls. Harry wasn’t surprised to see he was meeting with some success. He did like to sweet-talk. He thought he might see the muggleborn girl, Emily Roggenbloom there in the midst of them, sporting abnormally dark red hair. Last time he saw her, it was brown. The group laughed and the overall tone of the party seemed to relax.

He turned to look for Nott and Malfoy, who mentioned walking around to look at the decorations. Harry didn’t really understand it, as he could see the decorations from here; there was an illusion of a fall forest on the wall across from him, charmed lights strung up, some early pumpkins, and the ever-present dark windows. The panes shook minutely, and Harry turned back to the party. The thunder just kept going.

With no interest in dancing or mingling, Harry amused himself by attempting Tom’s spell with the butterflies to no avail. His wand coughed out a red-tinged moth, and he waved it away before anyone could see. It had not been a very good day, and he was tired. He wondered if anyone would notice if he just headed off to bed. Malfoy and Zabini ended their round to talk to him.

“I see you’re having fun,” Malfoy started. He leaned against the wall with him.

Harry smiled back. “I was looking forward to this, but now I’m just tired. I think maybe all the cold water got to me today. Also, uh, I’m not much of a dancer. I didn’t realize there would be quite so much dancing. Was the common room always this big?”

“There’s a bit of an extension charm on it when everyone’s in here at once,” Nott explained. “I’m not a dancer myself, but I like the music. Or, I like it now, but won’t like it when it switches to the modern yelling stuff. If it’s not straight melody, it’s trash.”

“It’s not trash, it’s got feeling,” Harry tried to explain. He only knew muggle music, but this definitely fell into the overlap category. “You know, when you feel like yelling, but you’d rather not look stupid, you listen to other people yell for you. Like AC/DC, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses. Not to say I don’t like the rest, but it’s a genre.”

“Like what?” Nott blinked.

“Muggle bands. It took me a few listens to understand the lyrics, but it’s energizing music. Do you guys seriously not listen to muggle music? Because if you don’t, wow, that would be cool. Might be a bit of a cultural adjustment, but it would be interesting.”

“What are you talking about over here?” Zabini slung his arm over Nott’s shoulder, who scowled at him but didn’t move.

“Muggle music,” Harry mentioned offhandedly, and Zabini smiled sideways at him.

“It can’t be as good as ours,” he waved to the player in the corner, which looked like a gramophone but had no turntable Harry could see.

He shrugged. “It’s totally different, you can’t really compare them. The only music I ever owned was Queen and U2, on Dudley’s old Walkman, but I like a lot of different kinds of music. You can listen for free in some stores,” he defended, when they looked confused. Of course, they weren’t confused by that part.

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud voice in the center of the room. It was easily identified as Bole, and he was somehow intoxicated. Harry hadn’t seen any alcohol at the party. Nott stiffened next to him, and Harry belatedly realized that the noises Bole was making were actual words, poorly formed.

“-and I think that any man weak enough to be caught ought not to be called Pureblood at all!” His point, whatever it was, was undermined by his stumbling. ‘Ought not’ turn to ‘aghtnght’ and Pureblood was slurred. “Take old man Nott, for example,” and his voice was suddenly clearer and louder. “That cranky loon gives us a bad name. Couldn’t hold on to his own property.”

“What is he on about?” Harry wondered, and Nott looked at him instead of Bole. A nerve twitched in his jaw, he was gritting his teeth so hard.

“My father was caught with a number of Dark artifacts over the summer,” he grunted. “I won’t say they weren’t his, but he wasn’t using them, just-”

“Only thing that kept the nut out of Azkaban was his age and his son. Where is the little Nott? Theodore, Theodore, come tell these nice people what naughty things your father’s been telling the Ministry.” Harry was horrified to see people turn towards them. Wasn’t anyone going to stop Bole? They were just going to let a fifth-year against a thirteen-year old?

Evidently, the answer was yes. A veritable parting of the waves occurred, allowing Bole to saunter over to Nott and, by extension, his roommates.

“There you are, Nottly. Care to tell our friends all about the Ministry’s raid? I hear the Malfoys are under just as much pressure, but they certainly haven’t let those half-wit thugs rifle through their secrets. I suppose your father doesn’t have all the leverage he used to, huh? Getting on in years, about time for the weak to die out and give way to those of us who can cover our own backs.” The students of Slytherin house stared. A few looked amused, like this was just some drama they watched.

“My father is twice the wizard you are. He has years left before he’s as weak as you. Why don’t you pass out already and let the rest of us be?” Harry shifted his weight. Bole really didn’t look like he would back down. Was Nott sure about this? Even the amused students looked hesitant now, and the edges of the party started to filter back into their rooms. Nobody wanted to get in the middle

“Your parents were awfully old to conceive,” he continued nastily, “Did they perhaps forget to do the required inheritance tests? Are you sure you’re a Nott at all, Theodore? Sure you’re not a half-breed? Got a bit of a horse face, sure your mum didn’t have a taste for the Centaurs in the forest?”

The charmed lights shook. A few went out. They felt thunder. Harry looked toward the windows, but they hadn’t flashed with lightning, and the thunder built. Harry had just grabbed Nott’s elbow when he stepped toward Bole. “Don’t talk about my mum, you… you…” Nott trailed off, and the floor shook a little. Harry had a bad feeling.

“Nott, come on, you know he’s not worth it. You need to calm down. Nott. Look at me.” But the pale boy couldn’t take his eyes off Bole, who was sweating and flicking his eyes around. Harry didn’t think he could move. Zabini drew his wand surreptitiously.

The shaking was slowing when Snape whirled into the room. He took in the situation with one glance, then seemed to rise half a foot in his rage. “Ten points from Sytherin for your lack of control, Mr. Nott!”

“Professor,” Harry started, “Bole was insulting his family, sir, it wasn’t Theo’s fault.”

“Did I ask you to speak, Potter? I can see very well what has gone on in this room! Five points! And twenty points from you, Mr. Bole, for inebriation at a school function! In addition, I expect both of you to report for detention starting tomorrow night and extending until I see fit to believe you have learned your respective lessons.” They looked down, but neither seemed calm, just frustrated.

“But Professor,” Harry tried again.

“You will learn to mind your own business! A week’s detention for you as well.” He turned to shepherd the two boys to bed.

Harry opened his mouth in fury, but Malfoy discreetly slapped him on the back. Unfortunately, Snape had the ears of a bat to go with his sweeping cloak.

“You will be _silent,_ Potter, before I extend your detention to the month!” Snape whirled on him, sneering. “Always a stage, isn’t it, Mr. Potter? Must make a spectacle of yourself. Always something to say. A celebrity, indeed.” Snape had perhaps looked at him this way the very first day, in Potions. But not since. He turned to address the silent common room. “Back to bed, all of you! Before I start handing out more detentions! Five points from Slytherin, Bulstrode, get that thing off your head, you aren’t a Weasley and you should not act like one! Five points from you, Zabini, pick up your wand and go!” Needless to say, the room emptied quickly. Harry nearly opened his mouth again to explain, perhaps when fewer students were watching, but Nott was pulling him to their room already and he let himself follow. He blinked back tears as he prepared for bed. He couldn’t even go to a party without screwing it up.

Nott was quiet, but he began to talk before they settled in for the night.

“It’s true, what he was saying.” They all paused to listen, perching on the end of their beds. “My father should be in Azkaban.” He shivered. “There’s probably a lot of money going in to keeping him out. But he’s old, and he’s all I have, and he wouldn’t last in there. Not one day.”

Malfoy hesitated, but pressed, “What did he have that was so terrible?”

Nott shook his head. “I don’t know. Like I said, dark artifacts. And I know he wouldn’t use them, not ones that would kill anyone. But he owned them, down in the vault. He should have kept them at Gringotts, I don’t know why he didn’t, but he didn’t expect a raid, they’re so focused on Malfoys right now- sorry, Draco.” He paused for a breath, and to slow down. He had begun to sound a bit hysterical.

“I understand.” Draco patted him on the back. “I could ask…”

“No, don’t get anyone else involved. They probably already want to tie your father to this. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. For a while, at least, nobody knew. How Bole found out I have no idea, probably some gossip in the Ministry.” Harry wished he could help. Nott seemed so miserable. But his father had broken the law, and he was caught, and those things could have really hurt someone. Not if they were locked up like Nott said, a part of him whispers. He avoids the thought.

“Why is the Ministry so up in arms about dark artifacts right now?” Harry thinks out loud.

The three of them exchange glances. “You, of course,” Malfoy finally drawls.

“Not that you really did anything to cause it,” Nott amends.

“But Voldemort came back, or nearly did, and everyone in the school knew about it. Of course the Ministry had to do something to look like they were being proactive about preventing anything like that from happening again.”

“Oh,” Harry replied in a small voice. He didn’t know how to respond to that. It was his fault- no, it was Voldemort’s fault, but Harry was here and alive, so he’d feel guilt instead.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.” Nott was being kind, or attempting to. “Things will go back to normal soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve heard you talk this much ever,” Zabini mentioned. Nott shrugs, perhaps to be contrary, but his half-smile manages to stop the tears from building in his eyes. After that, there isn’t anything to say, so Nott curls up under his covers and they all follow suit.

Harry lay awake for a while, not crying. He remembered days that ended like this, days that began like this in the Dursley house. It wasn’t safe to cry there, but it was here. Still, he couldn’t. He called up Seshhe from under his bed and told him about his day. The snake curled up in the curve of his belly and calmed him.

“ _It will be alright, little master. Rain dries up from the nests, and the sun rises, and there will be other prey tomorrow.”_


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed with no word from Snape on his detention. The professor would sneer at his potions as always, but didn’t even speak to him. It seemed he was still in a bad mood. Harry decided that keeping his head down and hoping against hope that Snape just forgot the whole thing was his best plan.

He also had yet to corner Malfoy about that mess with his father. Somehow, either Malfoy had misremembered in a massive way or Harry was just plain missing pieces of time. But he didn’t want their two roommates to know any more than they did. Malfoy was using this to his advantage, avoiding the conversation without avoiding him. It was very aggravating.

Harry had begun writing in the diary regularly, just everyday questions. Complaining about his classes and his friends. Detailing his ever-present nightmares. A Hogwarts shortcut here, a comment on curriculum there. Tom was pretty smart, and Harry came to the weekend study session extra prepared.

“It turns out if you add this,” he pointed to a separate ingredient on the next page, “the time until the next stage will actually decrease by about ten minutes.” Ron and Hermione looked it over. Ron went back to his chess game- against himself, naturally. Hermione actually registered the information.

“That doesn’t make any… actually, that makes total sense. Wow, Harry, that’s a great help. Where did you learn all this?” Hermione was marking furiously over her outline for the essay, putting in a paragraph for the new information and moving the other parts around to make room.

“Oh, a friend told me,” he replied cheerfully.

“Who? Someone we know?”

“Nope. A new friend. Slytherin,” he mentioned, just because Malfoy had skipped out this week. Doubtless, he was really avoiding the trip back to the common room with Harry. Malfoy could afford to piss off Snape with a halfhearted essay. Harry buckled down to write his own outline, because he could not.

\--

Eventually, Malfoy had to talk to him, because Quidditch practice was beginning. Not even a Malfoy could squirm out of reach when he had to put his broom away right next to Harry’s school broom.

“You know, I never did order a broom of my own.” Draco eyed him suspiciously, but approached so they could talk. Harry reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his robes. At the very least it would call attention if he tried to get away. “Come on, Malfoy. Let’s go up to the Owlrey and send off for one. I’ve got the order sheet right here.” Draco, red in the face, followed.

“Potter, unhand me. This is not dignified.”

“Should have thought of that before you started your campaign of silence. Now we’re going to the Owlrey where it’s nice and noisy, and I’ll send for my broom, and you can tell me all about your father.”

“I was going to tell you, I just needed to get all the facts first,” he defended.

“Let me guess, you got those a day after you found out. So the past six have been what, waiting for it to ferment?”

“You’re not going to like it,” he sighed.

“I got that much from the avoidance.” They attached the order form to a school owl’s leg and shipped it off. Harry turned to face Draco. “Now spill.”

He swallowed nervously. “There’s not a lot to spill, Harry. It’s just… I really think it’s possible my father wiped your memory of the event. And I’m not sure how he did it. And I don’t know why he would. And I expect you’ll avoid me now that you know.”

“That’s it? You avoided me to avoid me avoiding you?”

“My father wiped your memory! That seemed pretty serious to me!”

“But we have no way of knowing how, or when, or why. And I know you don’t have anything to do with it.” He stared down. “Do you?”

“No!”

Harry shrugged and lifted his gaze. “Then what? I’ve got detention with Snape, and Nott’s a mess, and I have a lot left to do on that essay because you know the most about potions and you skipped revision. I don’t have enough room in my head to think about things I can’t change right now. Get it?”

“That’s awfully short-sighted of you.”

Harry shrugged. “Have I told you I was almost a different house? My money’s on Gryffindor.”

“You know, when you insult yourself you’re taking my job.” He hesitated. “If I learn anything else, I’ll tell you first thing.”

“Good.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s all I can ask.”

\--

 _Hello again, Tom._ Harry was communicating in between scribbles of his essay. Just a few more sentences in closing, and he would have an essay even Snape couldn’t find reason to hate.

**_Hello, Reader._ **

_Can I ask more about you?_

**_I am an open book._ **

_Funny_

**_What do you want to know?_** The ink lingered until he read it, which was useful.

Harry thought for a moment. All he knew about this boy was his house, his name, his appearance, and that somehow his personality is in a diary. He could ask how that happened, but instead…

_How did you find out you were a wizard?_

**_What makes you think I haven’t known since birth?_ **

_Your answer._

**_Clever_ **

_I’m serious, though._

**_Allow me to ask, how did you find out?_ **

_I’d return the question, but for expediency’s sake. On my eleventh birthday a gigantic man ripped my relatives’ door off the hinges and pulled me out of the cupboard where I sleep. He proceeded to cry a bit and threaten my relatives. Then he told me I was a wizard._

**_Not what I was expecting._ **

_Me neither._

**_You sleep in a cupboard?_ **

_Under the stairs. Well, not anymore._ A thrill went through him. He hadn’t even told his friends about that, not beyond a half-muttered mention. He might have been embarassed but it seemed very far away.

**_Ah. I assume your relatives are muggle, then._ **

_Why?_

**_Because it is a pervasive flaw among their kind that what wonder they cannot control, they contain and destroy._ **

Unsure how to respond to that nugget of wisdom and in the peculiar position of defending the Dursleys, Harry changed the subject. _I suppose you were raised with muggles, then._

**_You could say so._ **

_And you didn’t like them?_

**_They didn’t like me._** Awkward.

_But then you came to Hogwarts, and it was great._

**_Correct. I came to Hogwarts, and my life improved immensely._ **

_Did you have to go back each summer, like I do?_

**_Let’s not talk about this anymore, Reader. Tell me more about you instead._** Harry obliged carelessly.

_I’m a second year Slytherin. My favorite class is Transfiguration. I have a pet snake._

**_You are allowed snakes at Hogwarts now?_ **

_I asked Professor Dumbledore and he let me keep him. He sleeps under my bed._

**_Dumbledore’s still there?_ **

_Yes. He’s Headmaster._

**_Interesting. Reader, are we friends?_ **

_I’d say so._

**_Could I know your name?_ **

Harry hesitated, but the diary had brought no trouble so far. Books on the power of a name sped through his head before he decided, they were friends. And friends knew each other’s names, just as a basic courtesy. _My name is Harry Potter._

**_It’s nice to meet you, Harry Potter. Now that we’re properly acquainted, could I trouble you for a favor?_ **

\--

“Harry!” A vaguely familiar voice stopped him, and he lurched. “Dear boy, whatever are you doing here at this time of night?”

“Night…?” Last thing Harry remembered, he had finished his Potions essay. He was going to play a few games of wizards’ chess with Nott before bed. He was rubbish at the game, but Theo was bringing him up to adequate. “Sorry, Professor… erm, Professor Lockhart.” He blinked at the teeth, which seemed much more reflective than the rest of the face rising up at him out of the dark. “I think I was sleepwalking? I had a strange dream…” He realized his explanation was terrible. If he weren’t half-asleep, he could come up with a much more credible lie than the truth.

“Ohoho,” Lockhart intimated, very close now. “I think, perhaps instead you were looking for me? I know, you probably wanted to meet me long before now, but I’m quite busy. I admit I’m quite curious about you, too, Harry.” The last Professor who talked to him like that was inhabited by a dark spirit, so Harry stepped back.

“Honestly, sir, I’d best be getting back…”

“To the Slytherin dungeons? Nonsense, it’s ever so dreary down there, don’t know how you stand it. It’s practically morning,” it certainly was not! “… And I’ve got a brilliant blend tea in my office, gift from a fan, I just can’t say no to them, you know.” He winked, ushering Harry down a hall that he couldn’t identify in the dim. “And it’s much better with company. I can tell you a few tips and tricks before I send you off to breakfast!”

\--

Harry could hardly blink without falling asleep all day.

He put his foot straight through the vanishing stair and fell, breaking his glasses, which Hermione fixed for him. He must have looked bad, because she didn’t even lecture him about it. When he finally got out of his last class of the day, he went straight to bed.

\--

“Potter. Getting a late morning?” Professor Snape sneered. Harry didn’t think replying would make him any kinder, so he stayed quiet. “Detention this evening with Gilderoy Lockhart. He has… requested you.”

For all that Snape was in a bad mood, Harry hadn’t thought he hated him this much. Snape was watching him for rebellion, though, so Harry just straightened up.

“Of course, Professor.”

“Six o’ clock sharp, Mr. Potter,” he drawled, and swept away.

As soon as Harry was sure Snape was entirely out of earshot, he turned to Malfoy at the breakfast table. “Lockhart, really? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Speak for yourself, Nott’s been working with the groundskeeper,” Zabini gestured.

Nott shrugged. “I don’t mind it. It’s quiet.” Slytherin had not been a friendly environment for Nott since the party.

“It can’t be worse than Lockhart, honestly, what will he even have me do? It’s not like he actually does any work. I hope he doesn’t make me write the script for one of his dramatic reenactments.”

\--

“Tonight you’ll be helping me answer my fan mail, Harry,” the ominous grinning face told him. Harry swallowed the sarcasm behind his tongue and sat.

“How can I help?”

“Just address as I tell you. Lots to get through!” And there was. How could so many people like Lockhart? Unfortunately, what could have been a rote and methodic task was turned annoying by Lockhart’s constant comments on fame and how Harry could be as good as he was one day.

“Really, Harry, you must think of your image if you’re ever going to really make it.”

“My image?” Harry blinked dumbly. Miss Dullimae Hargrove had a particularly long address, and Harry had misspelled her name twice.

“Image is everything! Take your classmate Mr. Malfoy, after all, the Malfoys are quite the philanthropists but you mustn’t be photographed with them. It’s one thing to graciously accept a gift, and quite another to be associated with the lot!” Harry put down Miss Hargrove’s envelope and stared. “You know, the Malfoys have quite the reputation as keeping with old traditions and such. You don’t get to be _the_ modern wizard of the new age by going backwards!” He caught his reflection in a mirror placed intentionally across the desk and winked at himself. Harry breathed out aggressively through his nose. He would not scream.

\--

Harry left Lockhart’s office late for dinner, and went straight for the Slytherin common room. They had a delightful hidden coffee room, which Zabini had kindly told him about. He still had to figure out a way to get back on Snape’s good side, and he had assignments from yesterday to do. But when he got to the common room, he changed his mind. He sketched a quick goodnight to Riddle and turned in early, before anyone else even got back.

\--

Harry was so cold. He shivered and shook but never moved, writhed in covers but wind whistled over him. He was hungry... he was so hungry. The Dursleys had gone on vacation... left the heater off… locked him in. If he could just climb out the latch, melt through the crack of daylight under the door. He was sure there was something warm there, sunshine, but also danger. He would give anything to be warm again, moving. If he could just crack the door, they would never notice. He pulled in to his magic, just a little, not enough to move a feather, pushed the latch. The door creaked open, but it was just as cold, and-

\--

Nightmares again. Obsession with cold was a new one, though. It lingered. Maybe the seasons were beginning to change already, the creeping cold of the dungeons sinking up through his feet. Harry bundled up. Blaise might tease him for wearing his winter robes already, but he didn’t care. Where had he left his socks? He would be late for breakfast yet again. Malfoy had already left without him.

“You alright, Harry?” Theo’s voice shocked him from his search.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“How are you tired? You’ve been sleeping so much. Maybe you ought to go to the hospital wing.” Blaise honestly sounded concerned.  Harry just shrugged in response.

“I’m not sick, just exhausted. Nightmares.”

Theo nodded absently and headed out. Blaise watched him go quietly. “I think you’re not alone there. He’s been thinking about his father too much.”

“How could he concentrate on anything else?” Harry shook his head, finally finding a mismatched pair of socks and pulling them on. “Come on, we’re late. Transfiguration this morning, and if I don’t eat I’ll fall asleep right in front of McGonagall. That’s a nightmare in itself.”

\--

Harry was really hungry. He demolished what was on his plate and went back for seconds. “Hey, Harry. My father sent me another letter.” Malfoy waved it around like he should care.

“That’s nice? Did your mum send any more sweets that you’d like to share?”

“Did you forget again?”

“Forget what?”

“My father!”

“Malfoy, I met your father once last year. Remember?”

“Right,” Malfoy replied faintly. “And… nothing else?”

“No. Hey, are you going to eat that or just play with it all breakfast? We’ve got to get going.” Malfoy nodded and picked up his bag, not meeting Harry’s eyes. He thought nothing of it. He packed an apple for after class.

\--

There was a pile-up outside of the Great Hall. Hagrid’s voice boomed over the commotion. “Alright, you’ve seen enough. Back to classes, all of you!” The masses of students parted for him. Harry looked up at him and didn’t see the cause of commotion right away. Then Hagrid turned, revealing the immense bag on his back. “Oh, hello Harry! Nott. Er, hello to you lot as well.” Blaise and Malfoy exchanged an incredulous look before leaving Harry to fend for himself. Theo stuck around to see what the fuss was about.

“Hello, Hagrid. Can I ask what’s in the bag?”

“Oh, just a bunch of dead garden gnomes. Wouldn’t be dragging ‘em through the castle like this, but Professor Snape said he wanted a look at them. Something about how the lot of them died, keeled over just in the middle of the garden. Might of dropped a few in the hall, that’s what this lot is about. As I said!” He yelled over his shoulder, “Off to class, nothing more to see!” He turned back to them. “Not a fan of garden gnomes, myself. Mean little blighters, and they burrow under my squash. Not happy to see them all dead, but I won’t mourn too long. Doubtless there’s plenty more where they came from.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Yer snake’s down at my cabin. Not sure why, but he doesn’t want to leave. Had a row?” Hagrid chuckled at his own joke, but Harry was perplexed. He couldn’t recall any disagreement with Seshhe, and his familiar wouldn’t leave him for nothing.

Well, I’ll see you, Harry. You too, Nott. I don’t want to be late and upset your Head of House.” He waved cheerfully and stomped off.

“I sincerely doubt that Snape would ask him to bring that many dead things through the school to his lab.” Theo kept his eyes on the ground, but gestured that they should get on to Transfiguration.

“He probably asked for one and got the lot. I’d feel sorry for him, but I’ve got four more detentions with Lockhart before I can begin to forgive. Did you know that man has fifteen mirrors in his office? Fifteen! I swear every time he moves I think I’m being ambushed.”

\--

“Today, class, we will be changing properties of matter. We have covered wood to metal last year, but in this case we will discuss the process of liquidation. As I’ve said before, Transfiguration is not only getting a spell to work but understanding what that spell does. In this case, we study the movement of solid to liquid…” McGonagall’s voice drowned out nightmares and shivers alike, and Harry managed to shake off what had been troubling him to concentrate.

He felt more like himself than he had for days. But it was not to last. He had detention again with Lockhart, and the man’s carefully crafted giggle set his teeth on edge. He managed to half-tune him out, but it left him in a daze. He might have mislabeled a bunch of fan responses. Oh well, he thought. Magic will sort it out, probably.

\--

History of Magic should not be this boring, Harry thought to himself. Either there was a fly in the room or some Slytherin was making fun of Binns’s droning speech at a higher tone. Really, only he could make vicious goblin wars so tedious. Also, didn’t they cover the goblin wars last year? He could just go to sleep in the sunshine, here… it would be so easy… and his head slipped out of his palm to nearly brain himself on the desk. Malfoy stifled a giggle. At least he was far from the only student having trouble keeping awake. Really, if Binns would just give them a list of topics he could learn better on his own. Maybe Hermione would help. He could sell study guides, make a mint.

When the class finally ended, he made his way down to Hagrid’s hut. As he approached, he heard loud, off-key singing. So Hagrid was in. Surprisingly, Nott was there too. Harry supposed he served his detention early, since Hagrid’s work was more dangerous at night. Nott had put on muggle clothes for the chores, jeans and a t-shirt. It might have been the first time Harry saw a pure-blood Slytherin in casual muggle clothes.

Hagrid smiled to see him. “Hullo, Harry! Come to talk to your snake? Or to help Nott with the weeding?”

“Just to talk to Seshhe. Sorry, Theo.” Nott waved back cheerfully and resumed raking in between what looked like immense vines. He looked happy, as much as he ever did.

The inside of Hagrid’s hut was just as it had been the year before. Something strange sat congealing on the stove, and the south wall was newly decorated with a drawing someone had done of a dragon. Harry’s familiar was nowhere to be seen.

“Seshhe! _Have you been down here this whole time?”_ For a minute it seemed like the snake wouldn’t answer, until he crawled out from the crack between Fang’s bed and the wall.

“ _You didn’t even notice. I’d much rather be here and hungry than inside those infernal walls.”_

Harry kneeled down beside him and gave him a hand. Despite the snake’s sulky tone, he approached quickly enough. _“You’ve never had a problem with Hogwarts before.”_

 _“It’s not Hogwarts that’s the problem.”_ Harry paused for an explanation, but Seshhe simply wriggled up his wrist a little further.

“ _Then what_ is _the problem?”_

_“You and that insufferable know-it-all. You need to stop writing in that book. And talking to her.”_

_“What? Who? And why?”_ The snake met his gaze firmly.

“ _Is it not enough that I say it?”_ Harry rolled his eyes so hard his head went with them.

“ _Would you just not be cryptic? I get that enough from everyone else.”_

_“What’s cryptic about this? Stop writing.”_

_“I don’t want to. Tom’s my friend.”_

_“Haven’t I been your constant companion? Through last year’s adventure, and your angry family?”_

_“You have. I- I can stop writing. Will you come back to the castle with me?”_

Seshhe rubbed his head against Harry’s wrist, pleased. _“I suppose. I am hungry, after all. Hagrid’s magic is not like ours.”_

 _“All right then. Up you go. Have you gained weight again?”_ Seshhe’s tongue flickered, but he didn’t dignify that with a response. He just wrapped around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry stepped out of the hut and waved to Nott and Hagrid.

“I see you two have made up, then! That’s nice. Best slip him under your cloak, there though Harry. Dumbledore’s permission or not, you’re not supposed to have a snake.”

“Got it, Hagrid. Thanks. See you later, Theo!” Harry made his way up to the castle, Seshhe tucked safely between his clothes and his outer robe. Could he really just turn his back on the diary?

\--

Harry woke up shaking. If he’d had a nightmare, he couldn’t recall it just then. He put on his glasses and set his bare feet on the ground. The room was quiet. He sat still for a moment, just breathing.

He had just decided to go and talk to the Serpent about the cold and the nightmares when he realized that Malfoy wasn’t in bed. His drapes were open. Harry cast a quick _tempus_. Usually he avoided checking the time when he woke up, but if Draco was out of bed at… two in the morning, something was going on.

Harry maneuvered his shoes onto his bare feet and lit his wand. His familiar was asleep, and when Seshhe didn’t respond to a whisper Harry decided to leave him. Draco was not in the hallway, nor the common room.

 _“Have you seen my pale-haired friend pass through here?”_ He asked the silver snake.

“ _An hour past. Best hurry,”_ was its enigmatic reply. Harry began to worry. He dashed back to the room for the invisibility cloak, then tucked a sleeping Sesshe around his neck, barely avoiding a snap. He really should know better than to touch a drowsy snake, and he was told in no uncertain terms as they escaped the Slytheirn dorms.

“ _I don’t see why I have to wake up whenever you can’t sleep. I’m growing, you know.”_

 _“Malfoy might be in trouble.”_ Harry hesitated, then took the second-most familiar path. Malfoy was more likely to head to the potions room for comfort than the Great Hall.

_“Well, alright. If we must save him.”_

Malfoy appeared out of nowhere at the end of the dark hallway, unmoving.

“Malfoy!” Harry hissed under his breath, but Draco didn’t turn. “Psst! Draco! What are you doing?”

Draco turned slowly in his direction, and Harry realized he was still under the invisibility cloak. He pulled the gauzy fabric over his head, but the sound continued. The susurrus of the cloak turned to a prolonged whispering, and Harry bent under a great foreboding.

All thought of stealth gone, he yelled, _“_ Malfoy, get down! Now!” He raced toward Draco, who still didn’t see him, and tackled him to the ground. Over Draco’s muttering and groaning, Harry tried to listen. He felt a bit foolish; what if it were Snape’s cloak? But he couldn’t shake the feeling. He grabbed on to Draco’s arm when he tried to rise and just lay there on the stone, shivering, breathing hard. Eventually the sick feeling in his stomach waned, and he gave Draco a hand up.

“What was that all about? You thought there was something behind you, so I get slammed into solid stone?”

There was no way to explain how he knew something was there. He wouldn’t know where to begin. So he replied, “I just knew it was dangerous. Come on, before we get caught out. We can share the invisibility cloak. Why were you out at one in the morning, anyway?”

“I had a question for an ancestor, if you must know,” Draco defended. “His portrait’s in an old storage chamber near the Potions classroom.”

“Why’s a Malfoy portrait here in Hogwarts?”

“Charitable contribution, why else? He counted his days here as the best in his life, so he gave them a tidy sum when he expired with the intention that they should keep his painting. Of course, money can’t always buy loyalty, and he’s fallen out. Therefore, storage closet.” Harry asked the snake politely to let them in, not taking off the cloak, and the wall slid open. “Don’t use Parseltongue right next to me, it raises goosebumps.”

Harry ignored him. “And you had to see said ancestor at this hour because…?”

“Secret!”

“Right.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m exhausted, and it isn’t even all your fault. See you in the morning.”

But, seeing as Seshhe was back under the bed, deep asleep, and he was unlikely to pass out in the next five minutes, it couldn’t hurt to say hello to Tom, right?

\--

Harry tried to stay alert, but November came without warning and Quidditch season was upon them. All the practices up until now seemed to fly out of his head, and he could barely eat. Draco wasn’t much better, bringing up all the ways one could die or be horribly maimed in Quidditch. Ron was egging him on, and Hermione was adding helpful facts in each case: beheading, gross falling damage, bludger. Evidently, each came with its own helpful information packet on the processes of the body. Harry barely ate half a slice of toast. His only break was when Snape came by with a “Good luck, Malfoy, Potter. Do try not to get yourselves blown up somehow.” It shut them up for half a moment, until Hermione wondered how one might be blown up in Quidditch, which had serious consequences to the conversation.

Needless to say, Harry and Draco were pale-faced and shaking on the way out to the pitch. The new Beater, Logs, didn’t share their nerves. She was older, after all. Also Harry thought maybe she wasn’t capable of fear.

But time didn’t slow. All too soon they were lined up on the pitch, Flint shaking hands with Wood, the Gryffindor captain. Harry and Draco received slight surreptitious waves from Ron and Hermione, facing them on the Gryffindor side. In seconds, they took off, then chasers flew after each other and bludgers crossed the field in seconds. The roar of the crowd faded as Harry flew higher and higher. Harry’s job, until the snitch was released, was just to not die. Flint had toyed with the idea of him getting in the way of the other team’s chasers, but he wasn’t very good at it. He was pretty good at not dying, given precedent.

Then the tinny announcer voice announced that the snitch was up. Harry had done this loads of times in practice. Gryffindor’s seeker, a skinny older girl that had a habit of crossing her eyes, was shooting all over the pitch looking. Harry chose to instead go from one end to the other high above the action. He moved slowly, panning from side to side. He saw it! And the other seeker didn’t. Harry knew the snitch would only let him get so close before fleeing, so he meandered over slowly before diving on it. That was it, the game was over. The announcer called out, “A hundred and ninety to forty,” and both teams drifted back to ground. Harry rolled the snitch in his fingers, marveling. What a strange and unbalanced game.

No sooner had the last grumpy Gryffindor alighted than a Ravenclaw Prefect came running past the stands. They couldn’t hear him from the Slytherin cheering, but he seemed to be yelling his head off.

Wood reacted first. “ _Muffliato,”_ and they could instantly hear the guy screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I’ve been sent for the headmaster! Something terrible has happened, Professor Flitwick’s just sent me! Get Dumbledore!” Wood nodded and sent up red sparks. The crowd was finally tuning in to the new events unfolding, leaving off celebration to lean forward in their seats.

“No time to waste, then. Off we go. Severus, Minerva, if you might shepherd the students back to their houses.”

\--

Nobody knew what had happened yesterday that caused such a disturbance. The Ravenclaw Prefect knew, but was refusing to tell. Each time he was asked he turned a little pale and shook his head, then booked it the other direction. Flitwick certainly wasn’t telling, nor were any of the other teachers.

Malfoy was determined not to care about a secret he didn’t know. “It’s probably nothing. Some experiment went wrong, or a charm on the window in the second-floor classroom disappeared, letting all the owls in.”

“You really think that?” Harry hefted his bag higher on his shoulder.

“Actually,” Pansy Parkinson walked up next to them. “There’s a boy in the hospital wing.”

“How do you know?”

“I went there, of course. Dreadful accident in the hallway, got hexed just a little bit by the little spitfire Weasley girl. She has so much energy it’s exhausting.”

“She’s a first-year! How many hexes does she know? How many hexes do we even know? What, _Tantellegra?”_

 _“_ That’s actually a jinx, not a hex.” Malfoy interjected mildly.

“It’s not my fault I don’t know that, it’s Lockhart’s.”

“Anyway, back to me.” Pansy cleared her throat self-importantly. “It was that little blondish boy, the Gryffindor with the camera the other day.”

“The muggleborn, Creevey?”

“If you say so. The curtains were drawn, so I only had a little peek, but I overheard Pomfrey. She said…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She said that he was petrified.”

“Bless your tiny snooping heart, Parkinson.” Malfoy looked like he was plotting something already.

“You can’t want to get mixed up in whatever this is?”

“Yes of course I do, Harry. Why do you think we’re friends? You bring all the adventures straight to you. And petrification? That’s real dark magic. I bet there’s something else the teachers are hiding from us.”

“Careful, Malfoy. You’re a bit too excited. Almost Gryffindor of you.”

“But don’t you see? It’s been months of drudgery. Now there’s a _plot._ ” He looked at Harry with his eyebrows raised.

“A plot?” Harry was hit by a wave of deja-vu, but waved it away. “I’m just plotting how I’ll get through this year with Snape holding a grudge. Any idea why he’s peeved at me?”

“None. Maybe you’re just irritating,” Pansy supplied helpfully. “I’ve got to go tell Millicent, Tracey, and Daphne before the rumors get to them. Bye!” She skipped off.

“She’s awfully happy.”

“Slytherin girls feed off secrets. Like a leech.” Malfoy made a sickening slurping sound.

“Really, just the girls?” Harry asked flatly. Then concerned, “Do you think Creevey will be alright?”

“We were repotting Mandrakes the other day. Main ingredient in a potion that can revive the petrified. Don’t you read ahead in potions? Maybe that’s why Snape’s angry.”

“I’ve been busy lately,” he defended himself.

“With what, exactly? Sleeping?” Harry shrugged. He didn’t have anything to say to that.

\--

That night after a good few rounds of Wizards Chess with Nott, Harry fell into bed and dreamed. He dreamed the squeal of hinges and scream of metal on porcelain, Dudley’s fork against his plate. He dreamed of cold and lonely. He dreamt himself curled up in the dark, his cupboard again.

In the morning, right outside the Great Hall, words were written in bright red:

_The Chamber of Secrets is opened_

_Enemies of the Heir, beware._

And Harry didn’t know what that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading so far. Like it? Hate it? Totally confused by what Harry is/isn't remembering? Please tell me. Love!


	6. Chapter 6

The school fairly buzzed about the message. Everyone knew about Creevey by that point, under attack by the Heir. However, nobody seemed to know what ‘the Heir’ was. Harry had to ask Malfoy about it, who had been two shades lighter than his usual pasty self since the message had gone up. He wouldn’t say over breakfast, nor in History of Magic, nor on their way out to Herbology.

“Will you tell me now?” Harry asked at last in their room. Theo and Blaise crept closer as well.

At least Draco didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “You can’t tell anyone I told you this, alright? You didn’t hear it from me. But fifty years ago, Salazar Slytherin’s ancient sanctuary somewhere in this school was opened.”

“Fifty years ago?

“Mmhmm. The existence of the Chamber was written up in _Hogwarts, A History._ You could ask Granger, bet she’s got the thing memorized.”

Harry nodded halfheartedly. “But why are the teachers so spooked about a sanctuary? You must have noticed it too. Professor Sprout was so distracted she started to give us the same lesson we had last week. Who are the enemies of the Heir?”

Draco took a deep breath, like he was about to embark on a lecture. “Hogwarts was founded in the tenth century, even before the whole witch-burning thing got really popular. But some muggle laws already had a framework of punishments and methods of execution for practicing magic. Whether or not it was deserved, Slytherin hated mixed blood. He would select his students on blood purity, among the other qualities we embody today. Of course, who knows if all that is accurate? It was a thousand years ago. Maybe he and the other founders fell out over having four tables, or employing relatives as teachers? Anyway, Slytherin supposedly hid a monster within the Chamber of Secrets, which would come out and purge the school of those Salazar believed untrustworthy. Namely, dirty blood.”

Harry tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse,” he said solemnly, “Slytherin has a great monster to make the whole school hate us. Why does this house even still exist?”

“Because some of us have pride in our heritage?” Zabini shot back nastily. “Salazar Slytherin was right to mistrust mudbloods. Practicing witches were being arrested and put to death for heresy. For consorting with demons. And who do you think got them caught? Muggleborn witch-haters and their families.”

“But muggles don’t burn witches anymore. They don’t even know magic exists.”

“And you think if we weren’t so well hidden, we would still be safe? No way.” Harry couldn’t say no to that. He knew his relatives too well.

“They almost closed the school after a muggleborn student died,” Draco continued. “But whoever let loose the monster was caught.”

“And? Who was it?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. But the story goes, the Chamber can only be opened by Salazar’s true descendant.”

“The Heir.” Draco nodded.

“Needless to say, we aren’t going to be very popular if this gets out. I mean, when it does. I can’t be the only one who knows about it. I’m surprised the teachers have kept it secret through today.”

“How do you know all this?” Theo asked, eyes intent on Draco.

He spoke slowly. “My father told me. Last year. I’m not sure why.” His eyes flicked toward Harry, then away. “Perhaps to scare me, or remind me of pureblood supremacy. He can’t have known this would happen. But I remembered as soon as I saw that on the wall.

“So, I suppose the question is, who’s the Heir of Slytherin?”

\--

“Such a pity I wasn’t there,” Lockhart began the class. “To protect poor Mr. Creevey, I mean. I know precisely the counter-curse.”

“Well perhaps you could teach it to us,” Harry called, quietly furious, “In case it happens again, like the warning said.”

“Wouldn’t want you trying… erm. Such an advanced piece of magic, it would only bring ruin for a novice.”

“Maybe teach the seventh-years, then,” another student called.

“Ahem. Well, I cannot in good conscience befuddle you with such mysteries of Defense Against the Dark Arts,”

“It’s like writing an essay! He’s just repeating the blasted title of the class,” Harry hissed to Draco, who ignored him.

Lockhart pushed his sleeves back with a flourish. “I will unveil to you now a veritable bastion of security, an ancient and noble tradition: dueling!” Perhaps against their better judgement, the class sat straighter. “Yes, I will be leading the school’s very own Dueling Club! I received permission from the Headmaster just yesterday, and I couldn’t wait to share the news! Now, sign-ups will be going out, may as well start, here’s a sheet of parchment…” He passed it about the room. “We should start meeting in a few weeks…”

“Do you really think it’ll be anything other than Lockhart screwing up again?” Zabini asked wryly from the row in front of theirs.

“Maybe not,” Malfoy shrugged, “but it’s not as if we want to miss that. I’m signing up.” So they did.

\--

“Dueling club!” Ron squeaked excitedly. His excitement had only grown since the day Lockhart announced it. Every few steps he would do an involuntary little skip, and Harry was enjoying it too much to point it out. It was stifled by the sight of Professor Snape. He looked to be in a bad mood again, somehow shoved into the role of checking those attending had signed up. The list looked to go past his shoes, and Harry swore he was ticking slowly down the list just to get some passing joy out of the students’ nervous flailing. He checked over their group without incident, though a little sneering. Most of the school showed up, so many they had to move to the Great Hall and use a table as a stage.

“Easy, Weasley, you’ll poke someone’s eye out,” Draco ducked under Ron’s hand. Ron stubbornly flailed a couple more times, then settled.

“Even you should be a little excited, Malfoy. Dueling!”

“My father’s shown me the basics, of course,” Draco sniffed, “But it would be interesting to know what Lockhart’s going to show us. At least Professor Snape’s here, so anything set on fire shouldn’t stay that way for long.”

Lochart cleared his throat to get the attention of the room. They didn’t quiet down immediately, but he proceeded. He went through a whole great speech about how dueling was a noble art, and they were learning from one of the best, and he did a great many squiggles in the air about form. Then Snape stepped up onto the table.

“Perhaps a practical demonstration.” It wasn’t a question. Snape didn’t wait for Lockhart to respond, just headed to one end of the table. They bowed, and Snape thoroughly trounced the other teacher, to thunderous applause. Not just Slytherins, either. Lockhart wasn’t as popular as he thought he was.

“Of course, good show Professor. Perhaps the shield charm next? Disarming is well and good, but…” Snape looked a bit happy to beat Lockhart again, so he continued, “Let’s have a volunteer pair, then! I trust you know the shield charm? How about you, Miss Granger? Very bright, you know, Professor Snape.”

Snape growled back, “I know.” Perhaps just to shut him up, but Hermione colored anyway. How often did Snape give out compliments? Never. “Yet the brightest second year still hasn’t learned a third-year spell in curriculum,” he continued slyly. Lockhart didn’t seem to hear him.

“And how about you, Mr. Potter?” Harry’s eyes went straight to Snape’s, pleading for a way out. He had no faith in his ability to beat Hermione, and he didn’t want to get crushed in front of everyone. Snape smirked in return.

“Indeed.” Harry climbed after Hermione onto the table. “Any chance you know how to shield, Potter?” He shook his head. “And the disarming spell I showed, do you know that?” He shook his head again. “Pity. Stand here. Bow.” And then Harry was dueling Hermione. She looked as horrified as him, but inclined her head to suggest he went first. They couldn’t just stand there, they would get laughed at.

“ _Tarantellegra_!” Hermione blocked with “ _Protego!”_ To a smattering of applause. Evidently, that was the shield they were actually supposed to be modelling. Which Harry didn’t know. Snape deigned to raise his eyebrows at him.

_He nodded to Hermione, who had lowered her wand after her successful shield. The Professors had made no move to stop them. She readied herself, and Harry took a deep breath. Protego, protego, protego. Shield. What was that wand motion Hermione did? He would have to mirror it._ _“Circenses fallo!”_

_“Protego!”_ _Harry cried in return, but he felt the spell go slowly, struggling. He just couldn’t learn it by seeing it once. Hermione’s spell punched through whatever it was he had conjured, and Harry began to see little dancing mice around his head, in front of his eyes. He could feel them crawling over his skin. They had little top hats on. Then a whole elephant trumpeted at him, stampeding down the table towards him. He fell backwards, scrabbling._

“Sorry, Harry!” Hermione ran over to help him up.

“It was pretty cool, actually. What was that spell?”

“An illusionary charm. Harry, you should really work on that shield. A directed illusion is very easy to counter, that’s why I chose it.”

“It was my first time,” Harry protested, but was cut off by Lockhart.

“Very nice, you two! Bit embarrassing for Mr. Potter, hmm? Now, we have enough room here, we can spill out into the entry hall if we must. Everyone pair up! Not just with your House, now, we don’t want to ruin any friendships!”

Snape eased over to their side. “That was an attempt, Potter. Have Miss Granger show you the proper movements.” He was, evidently, being nice again. Maybe Lockhart just put him in a bad mood. He whirled away to split up a group of three.

Hermione smiled slightly. “It’s a pretty easy motion, the problem is with the intention.” Her lesson was interrupted by the rest of their friends approaching. Ron and Hermione drew back a bit, seeing Blaise and Theo. Theo nodded to them, scowl still on his face. The Weasley twins followed them, obnoxiously mimicking Blaise and Theo’s mannerisms. Namely, Fred lengthened his spine and stepped toe-first, and George moved his shoulders up and down while pouting.

“Hello you-all! Ready to duel?” Fred dropped the act and raised his eyebrows.

Before the group could split and partner up, a grumpy-looking Millicent Bulstrode shouldered through them. Harry rubbed his sternum, having come into contact with one of her formidable elbows.

“Hello, Bulstrode,” Malfoy puzzled. “Do you have a problem?” Pansy hurried in Bulstrode’s wake. “And hello to you too, Parkinson.”

“We just didn’t want you to hog all the Gryffindors again. There’s supposed to be a rivalry, not sure if you knew. Why don’t you two just duel? Lockhart’s not going to care. And Harry could use some actual coaching on dueling form.” Pansy fast-talked over Millicent, who nodded in agreement.

“Why do I have to do it?” Pansy shot Draco a glare, which melted to an exasperated look. Then she flicked her eyes toward Ron and Hermione, standing there listening.

“Listen, we don’t need any protection,” Malfoy started.

“Not you, nitwit. Harry. You know…” In a deliberate motion, Pansy pointed her chin at Harry’s forehead. Harry tilted his head in surprise. Pansy had never really seemed to care before.

Harry squared his shoulders. “I certainly don’t need to be protected from my friends.”

Pansy sniffed. It looked like she would give up, but Bulstrode just crossed her arms. Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not like it’s any challenge to split up,” she pointed out. “We’ll see you later, Harry. Millicent Bulstrode? I’ll be your partner.” Bulstrode let out an unladylike grunt and followed her to an empty portion of the hall, where they began to practice.

“Excellent.” Pansy was reignited. “As it happens, I’ve got a fellow student with me right here. Michael?” It was Michael Corner, the Ravenclaw that Malfoy couldn’t stand.

“Hello, Harry!” He was possessed of remarkably swishy hair and a smile. “I don’t think we’ve talked much before, though we’ve had some classes together. Why don’t we partner up for this exercise?” Like Pansy hadn’t brought him along like a lapdog for that precise reason. Harry rolled his eyes at her, but followed Corner. He had taken Harry’s silence for agreement, and was already walking off. Harry was at least a little glad to be leaving the rest of his friends to sort it out themselves.

Michael Corner obviously had more dueling experience than Harry, not that it took much. Harry improved slowly but surely, Corner taking time to tell him what was wrong with his shield or spell each time. He was a bit squirrely, smug and annoyed in turns, but Harry figured he couldn’t like everyone.

About ten minutes in, a loud shot rang through the hall. Harry turned to look in time to see Ron Weasley laid out, hair smoking. Malfoy, at the other end of the spell, looked a bit panicked. Snape strode over, Lockhart’s tapping steps quick behind him.

“Mr. Malfoy. Care to explain this?”

“Just a bit of a rum shielding charm, Professor Snape,” Ron spat out, getting to his feet. His eyes were on Malfoy. Snape raised his eyebrows at Draco, who looked right back at Ron.

“If that’s the case… proceed. Do be more careful.” Snape left to tend to another group, and the hall raised their voices again, and the two settled into position. Lockhart swung his flashy cape to a neighboring pair while still keeping an eye on them. Harry raised a finger to Corner, asking for a minute. He had a bad feeling.

Sure enough, Ron shot a spell Harry didn’t know at Draco, who dodged it. It miraculously missed the girl dueling behind him. This was a really bad setup. Lockhart, fidgeting as he watched, just kept his silly grin on. Draco shot something red back, and looked furious. Things escalated. Harry was about to call out, trouble be damned, when Malfoy shouted, “ _Serpensortia!”_ and a cobra shot from his wand. It began to make a sinuous beeline for Ron’s feet even as he scrabbled backwards.

Lockhart made a tinny, excited noise, and stepped up to the two of them. Not too close, Harry noticed. Snape hadn’t heard the spell, but he was sure to hear the spreading silence as each person turned to watch. Harry fought through the closing crowd to be next to Ron.

“What happened?” he asked, steadying the redhead and pulling him back a bit further.

“What does it look like happened?” He gestured to the snake, tucking his hands back in with a whimper when it increased speed towards him. It had halved the distance between the duelists already. “Malfoy’s snake is going to kill me!” Lockhart just looked delighted, and Ron whispered to Harry furiously, “Do something!”

Lockhart piped up, “Not to worry, Mr. Weasley, was it? I’ll just…” He wiggled his wand in that butterfly way of his, like he was signing a particularly unimportant document, and the snake flailed into the air. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. That wasn’t good. “And uh, then…” But the snake was nearly to them now, and angry. Very angry.

“ _Nasty, egg-stealers! Back-biters! Chewers!”_ It bared dripping fangs, and focused forward on Ron, rising up and flaring its hood. “ _MONGOOSES!”_ All Ron heard was hissing, and then a very scary growl, like a dog.

Harry knew he really didn’t have time to wait for Snape to catch on and cross the immense hall. Mongoose was a very dangerous word for snakes. Under Harry’s shirt, Seshhe writhed just hearing it. He placed one hand over the wiggling lump and stepped forward, kneeling down to make a smaller target. Just in case this didn’t work.

“ _No mongoose,”_ He began. “ _No mongooses here. These are my friends, and you’re not in any danger anymore.”_

It paused, but didn’t close its mouth. “ _Liar. Snake-talker. Chewer,”_ it weaved petulantly.

“ _Chewer,”_ Harry admitted, “ _But no mongoose. Not an egg-stealer, not a back-biter.”_ The snake was nodding now, hiding its fangs with a closed mouth. But it still hadn’t dropped back down. Harry ignored the human hissing that had begun. First things first. He looked up at Malfoy, who had his eyes closed, palm over them like he couldn’t stand to watch. Right, Harry remembered. Parseltongue freaked him out. Ron, too. Now, probably the rest of the school. “ _Where are you from?”_ Harry asked.

It took a few seconds for the snake to understand. “ _No,”_ was the answer. Harry frowned. He reached out, low.

“ _Not food.”_ He said firmly.

“ _Not food,”_ it agreed, and curled up onto his hand. Snape took this moment to arrive, and Harry could practically see him implode at the scene.

 “Put that back on the ground, Potter, and I’ll get rid of it.” Harry pulled the cobra close and Seshhe poked his own head out to say hello. Harry bent slightly to cover the snake’s motion, as he couldn’t chastise him at that moment.

Lockhart cleared his throat, but Harry talked over it. “Professor it’s not hurting anyone now, can’t we let it be?” Ron made a choked sound behind him.

“It’s a summoned snake, Mr. Potter, not a live one. Regardless of Mr. Malfoy’s skill, it will fade. I will simply speak the counter-charm.”

“Oh.” Harry set the snake down, docile now. As Snape performed the counter-charm and it struggled on the floor, he regretted obeying. It might not have been truly alive, but it certainly felt.

“Malfoy. Detention, for deliberately misinterpreting the exercise and putting a fellow student in danger.” The hall was silent. “Well? What are you all staring at? Get back to work or leave!” Malfoy turned and left, and Harry followed him.

 

Out the double doors and halfway down the hall, Harry caught up. “What were you even thinking, Malfoy,” Harry gritted.

“He was insulting my mother. A Weasley, insulting a Black!” He ignored Harry’s look.

“So you set a snake on him.”

“We were dueling. No real rules, despite what Professor Snape said. You shouldn’t have interfered! And you certainly should not have used that!”

Harry sighed. “You set a snake on him. What was I supposed to do?”

“Mind your own business!”

“Rich, coming from you.”

“Piss off, Potter. I’ve got detention, isn’t that enough?”

“No, it isn’t. You can’t just… you know. Use stuff like that. That spell. On innocent people.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do. It’s just a spell. And Weasley’s just a rat.” Harry stopped keeping pace, and Malfoy sped away. Harry knew that Draco would regret it. It didn’t make much difference if he regretted it now or after what fresh hell Snape could think up for his detention.

 

Unsurprisingly, Harry was called into Snape’s office as soon as he got back to the common room. He took a moment to let Seshhe off at the room, where he ignored Harry. It looked like another fight was coming. Harry bent his head, then breathed out and left.

When he stepped into Snape’s office, the Professor was facing a bookshelf in the back. Harry sat and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape finally turned, a nerve twitching in his jaw. “What did I tell you about that ability?”

“Not to let anyone know I had it,” he replied dully.

“And now that they know, do you understand the reason?”

“I always understood, I just-”

“Obviously you did not.” Harry bunched his robes in his left hand, then smoothed them out.

“What, was I supposed to let it attack Ron?”

“How many varieties of antivenom do you think this school stocks, Potter? How many do you think I have right here on my shelves?” Harry didn’t respond, just glared. “Ron Weasley would hardly have suffered. Now, Mr. Malfoy’s temper has earned him detention. I would very much like to give you the same. However… I believe your punishment will be enough. You should have listened.”

“I should have trusted Lockhart to deal with it?” Snape thinned his lips in what might have been an angry smile.

“He is a Hogwarts Professor. You should give him your respect.” Yeah, right, Harry thought. Just like Snape himself did? “No matter how much of an idiot he is.” Snape continued, and Harry choked back a smile.

“Is that all, Professor?” Snape picked up a quill from his desk and looked him deep in the eyes.

“For now, Potter.” As Harry left, Snape said one more surprising thing. “Good luck.”

\--

Harry had a nightmare that he was in St. Brutus’s. Hogwarts was a dream, and he was dressed in that lumpy grey getup. He passed every day miserably, learning math and parts of speech and never having any magic at all.

When he woke, he only turned over in his bed to look out into the Black Lake. “You’re a wizard, Harry.” He muttered to himself. “A wizard.” And he went right back to sleep.

\--

For the first couple days, Harry worked hard to hold on to the delusion that nothing had changed. People had always avoided him in the halls, right? And even if Blaise and Theo were hanging around more, that was because Malfoy was off brooding somewhere. They just looked angry and protective because…? That’s where the delusion had to end. The Gryffindors were avoiding him, and his house had closed ranks. He started to hear fragments of conversation in the halls, quickly cut off.

 

“…but Weasley’s a pureblood.”

“A blood traitor. A true enemy of the Heir…”

“So you really think…?”

“… as a _baby_. And nobody knows how. I think maybe it’s because You-Know-Who couldn’t measure up.”

“And what if he went after the Potters because he was trying to get rid of the competition…”

 

He couldn’t put any stock in it. Gossip, Theo reminded him, with dark eyes.

“ _Gossip,”_ Seshhe agreed, but Harry decided it would be best for Hagrid to keep an eye on him all the same. If being a Parselmouth was bad enough, keeping a snake might throw them into action.

\--

Without half his friends, double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors was a nightmare. Ron wouldn’t even look at him, and Hermione’s pitying gaze didn’t help at all. The rest of their house looked like Harry had just stood on his desk and claimed dominion over Britain. Alarmed and angry, with a definite squint.

Hermione raised her hand. McGonagall, in the middle of her lecture, took a deep breath, then nodded to her. “Professor, with all the rumors,” eyes on Harry, “could you tell us what you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

McGonagall drew herself up to her not inconsiderable height. She very definitely did not look at Harry. “There is no such thing as the Chamber of Secrets, nor the Heir of Slytherin.” She ignored the rising whispers. “Its existence is nothing but a rumor. A legend of a very old school. And that is it. Now. As I was trying to explain, the Un-Transfiguration of animals, as we learned in your first year…”

Harry looked at Draco quizzically. “She seem a bit too rattled to you?” Malfoy twitched his eyebrows down, but otherwise gave no indication of hearing him. “Oh, right. You’re still ignoring me because of what you made me do.”

“I didn’t make you make everyone here think you’re the Heir!”

“I didn’t make you make me make… wait, they think I’m the Heir? I thought they were freaked about the Parseltongue, not… that.”

“What a surprise. That’s because you’re an idiot who doesn’t think through things. Slytherin was a Parselmouth. Slytherin was immensely powerful and, to hear it, hated dirty blood. You, defeater of the Dark Lord, stood in front of everyone and made nice with a snake, in front of a blood traitor, who it attacked.”

“But I was protecting him!” Harry whispered.

Draco regarded him pointedly. “And every Parselmouth in the room knew that.” Harry lapsed into silence.

\--

That night, Harry pulled out the diary. He had tried to keep it to a minimum, since he had told Seshhe he wouldn’t do it at all. But the snake was off at Hagrid’s, and he needed information about the Chamber.

_Hello, Tom. I have a question._

**_Ask away._ **

_What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?_ Harry paused for a response.

**_It was opened in my time here. Would you like to see?_ **

Harry’s hand was moving before he even thought about it, greedy for another look at Tom’s time. _Yes._

And he was transported in another whirl of light, familiar now. A vaguely familiar staircase, with a vaguely familiar boy and… Dumbledore? Right, he remembered. Tom had been interested that Dumbledore was the headmaster. That made Tom the boy. Harry catalogued the differences from the last memory. Tom was definitely older. Taller. He had longer hair, and looked better fed.

He watched the two of them carefully as they talked. Dumbledore treated Tom a bit like he treated Harry- kind, but standoffish. Calculating. Harry’s gut clenched to hear Tom mention he had nowhere to go. What would he himself do to stay in Hogwarts?

The memory spun around him, and they were in a different place. A sheet covered what Harry figured was the body. Four people carried it down and out the castle doors. The memory spun again. It was dark, but Harry could still see Hagrid’s stricken face as Tom cast spell after spell at whatever monster was in the box, and somehow it still escaped. Hagrid? There was no way Hagrid was the Heir. He would never have set a monster on an individual. At least, not on purpose. Harry turned on his heel to look Tom in the eye. He looked happy- to catch the culprit? To be done with it? He wasn’t sure.

But the memory ended, and Harry found himself back on his bed. He took a few deep breaths to dispel the vertigo. He frowned. Thinking of how Tom had changed, his facial features filled out, not as skinny, it was easy to follow backwards to what he might have looked like as a kid. Even skinnier, even shorter hair. Less defined eyes, a little more lost and angry. No mask of pleasantry yet. His imagination drew up an image intensely alike to the boy who had visited his reflection in the Mirror of Erised.

He shook his head at the idea, ready to put it out of his mind. He picked up his pen to write, but as soon as the tip touched the paper he felt a static shock, which made him drop it. He rubbed his fingers together to brush off the sensation and picked it up again.

_You’re telling me that Hagrid opened the chamber and killed that girl?_

**_These are my memories. I cannot lie to you when I’m showing you what happened, can I?_ **

_If anyone could…_

**_Flattery will get you everywhere. For now, trust when I tell you that Hagrid had possession of a dangerous magical creature that would kill._ **

_Perhaps. But Hagrid, the Heir of Slytherin? No way. He’s my friend, but he isn’t the most… cunning._

**_I have shown you what I know, Harry Potter. What more do you ask? I can’t give you the answers you seek.  
_ **

_Can’t or won’t?_

**_It’s late. You should get to sleep._** Harry did feel very tired.

_I suppose I should. Goodnight, Riddle._

He paused.

_Thanks as always._

**_Goodnight, Harry Potter._ **


	7. Chapter 7

By the next day Draco must have decided, like Snape, that Harry’s new status as a pariah was punishment enough. He started talking to Harry again. In particular, he started picking at him.

“Setting a new fashion trend?” Draco brushed a feather off Harry’s robes. “Or is your snake branching out to eating chickens? There’s more in your bed.”

“Must have picked them up somewhere, or my pillow’s leaking.” Harry was exhausted and jittery, and in no mood to joke. He hefted his bag. “If you’ve decided to become part of the honor guard,” he gestured to an obviously lingering Theo, “Let’s get to breakfast.”

“Not guarding you,” Theo grunted, to which Harry just smiled.

 

He should have been grateful. Theo was pretty good at the shielding spell, and he got to show it when someone tried to hex them in the hall. Harry didn’t get a clear look at them before they ducked back around a corner. The attacker would be down that hall in seconds, and Harry didn’t know that part of the castle well. It wasn’t worth chasing them.

“Still think nobody believes you’re the Heir?” Draco snarked.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Theo still looked alert, wand out.

They hardly got halfway to the Great Hall when they were stopped by what looked like a huge jam of students. Nobody said anything, but they took one look at Harry and cleared a path.

Harry sighed. He didn’t really want to move to the front of the crowd. But Malfoy pushed, and Theo led. “Got to see it sometime, Potter,” Malfoy muttered. “Maybe it’s signed, and you’re off the hook.”

“Right,” Harry muttered back. “Because I’m usually so lucky.” Sure enough, it wasn’t signed. In fact, it wasn’t changed. Harry just had time to read the now-familiar writing and register that there was a shape huddled on the ground before McGonagall swept past, waving her wand. Her spell installed some sort of milky-white barrier in front of the site, one which Madam Pomfrey stepped right through with Dumbledore on her heels.

Harry shivered. Enemies of the Heir, beware. He wished not for the first time that someone had managed to erase the threatening message.

“Come on, guys. We don’t want to stick around here.” He had to tell them what Tom had showed him, but he didn’t know how. Harry caught Hermione’s eyes in the crowd, and surprisingly she followed them to an empty classroom.

Theo looked at her askance, but she ignored him. “Harry, are you the Heir?”

“No!” She nodded.

“Alright.”

“That’s it?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes. I think I know Harry well enough to know if he’s out killing students, and I don’t think it’s him.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry replied, “Thank you.” He stopped, then figured he should just say it. “I can’t really tell you how I know, but the last time the chamber was opened, the person they caught? He wasn’t the right one.”

“And you can’t tell us?”

“It was Hagrid. Come on, do you really think Hagrid’s capable of that?”

“Purposefully, no, but… on accident? He did try to keep a dragon, remember?”

Harry shook his head. “I just got the feeling, I don’t think it was him. I think even the one who caught him knew it.”

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione coaxed. You can’t tell us anything about how you know?”

At least this much might be harmless. “It was a memory. From the one who caught Hagrid, fifty years ago.”

“A memory?” Hermione gaped. “How did you get hold of something like that?”

“Obviously he won’t tell us that part, Granger.” Harry shrugged and nodded.

“Well. At the least, we need to talk to Hagrid. Even if he didn’t open it, he was here the last time the chamber was opened. He might be able to tell us more about it.”

“You’re telling me that you want to get more involved in this?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I’m a muggleborn, I’m already involved. And people think you’re the Heir. The sooner we clear your name, the sooner they’ll start looking for the real culprit.”

Malfoy nodded. “Understandable. But for today, I’m famished. We’ll eat, then go to class, then plan. Alright?”

“Alright.”

\--

Deciding to look for the Heir was easier than actually starting to. Malfoy was still of the firm opinion that Hagrid did it last time, and likely had started it up again for revenge. Theo agreed with Harry that Hagrid couldn’t be Slytherin’s Heir. However, Harry didn’t want to just march down to Hagrid’s hut and ask him, while Theo did. Blaise wanted to be left right out of it at all times.

They couldn’t decide among themselves that night, and by morning the latest victim was confirmed as Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was muggle-born. He had been petrified, just like Creevey.

They couldn’t decide what to do any night that week.

\--

A small Hufflepuff pounded down the hall. Harry was startled when she stopped in front of him. She held out a slip of parchment and, when Harry took it, she ran off again.

“Popular?” Blaise drawled.

Harry opened up the note. “I’m called to Dumbledore’s office.”

Blaise winced. “Surprised it took this long, mate. Let us know if you get expelled.”

He walked off, but Harry called after him, “You would lead a protest! Because you need me around! Blaise Zabini!” He got louder as Blaise rounded the corner, and people stared. “Sorry. He thinks Quidditch should be played with five seekers.” The students left in the hall turned to look at the retreat of such a madman, and Harry got to walk off.

 

He was sure Dumbledore wouldn’t be taken in by blatant misdirection. He took a deep breath at the gargoyle, then pronounced the password on the call slip. “Meaty Marigolds.” Urgh. Was that a candy?

He shuffled up the winding staircase and knocked on the door, then entered. It was a brief moment before Dumledore himself descended.

“Your bird looks a bit ill, sir.”

“Oh, he’s just molting. Phoenixes, as you may know, die and are reborn from the ashes. Fawkes is such a creature. Beautiful, usually, though that’s not why I keep him around.” The bird squawked at him, affronted. “Just like it isn’t why he keeps me around.” He brushed a finger delicately over the beast’s feathers, which fell singed into the awaiting pan.

“All the snakes I’ve ever met hated birds.” Harry rocked back on his heels. “They thought birds were bullies, but I suspect it’s just that they hated not being at the top of the food chain.”

“Indeed. Have a seat, my boy.” He sat himself.

“If this is about the Heir of Slytherin deal, I have no idea why everyone thinks it’s me.”

“Don’t you?”

“Parseltongue can’t be that rare.”

“Oh, but it is. And unfortunately, a few well-known dark wizards have employed it.”

“So it’s evil. Like Slytherin is.” Harry put a hand over his eyes and sighed. “How can I convince the school I’m not interested in killing Muggleborn students? One of my best friends is one!”

“I’m afraid, Harry, that mass hysteria follows its own logic. There may be nothing you can do. But soon the two petrified students will be revived, and they will speak of what they have seen.” He paused. “If these attacks do continue, we will have to close the school. For the safety of everyone.

“I have called you here not to accuse you, but just to ask; is there anything you need to tell me?” The same words he used on Riddle. Harry wondered if the parallel intrigued or annoyed the professor.

Harry didn’t want to tell him about the diary. Tom was his friend, and he knew Dumbledore would take him away. He shook his head.

\--

The owls had just dropped their parcels when Harry heard it.

“It just makes sense,” an obnoxious whisper came from the Ravenclaw table behind them. “He’s collecting followers. I bet Nott’s father has been supplying them with…”

Unfortunately, Theo overheard them. His goblet gave way with a loud snap, and juice soaked the table. Slytherin house fell quiet, and Theo’s plate wobbled away from him.

He stood up quickly, grabbing his bag. “I’d better go. See you guys in class.” Snape swooped in his wake, looking down on the two of them briefly. He didn’t say anything, just followed Nott. Blaise sighed.

“He’s left his Potions book.” And he had. He must have been looking over today’s potion. “I suppose I should give it to him.” Blaise took one last bite and waved, picking up Theo’s book. “See you when you catch up.”

He took off, and Harry couldn’t tear his eyes from Theo’s shattered goblet. Malfoy chose that awkward moment to exclaim, “My mother’s invited you for the holidays.”

Harry’s head turned in record time. “What? Why?”

Malfoy brandished a letter in his face. “Because we’re friends. Why else?” His eyes flickered to the letter.

Harry nearly read it out loud, but swallowed the urge. ‘…invite your friend Harry… worried about what you’ve told me… memory loss and sleeplessness are two textbook signs of influence.’

“What does ‘influence’ even mean?” Harry hissed. “And what nonsense have you been telling your mother about me?”

“I don’t know what it means, she wrote it.” He muttered back. “You’ve got to be near crawling up the walls anyway, by this point, right?”

“Listen. I’m just going through growing pains or something, forgetting a couple text answers.”

“Really? You’re going with months-long growing pains?” He gestured expansively, like Harry’s idiocy knew only the bounds of the castle itself. “Not, I don’t know, something magical? Like any normal wizard would assume?”

“Malfoy, leave it. Now.” Harry rubbed at his temples. “I’m fine, so I’ll stay here at the school where your family won’t be poking at me, thanks.” Draco shut up at that, and they finished eating in silence.

 

Later that night, Harry didn’t know what came over him. It would have been fantastic to go to Malfoy’s for holidays, since everyone seemed to be planning on evacuating the school. He would even like to meet Malfoy’s mum, though he still thought the elder Malfoy was slimy. He was just frustrated at the other boy. But it would have embarrassed him to death to take it back, so he didn’t.

He was debating sneaking out to the common room to write Tom when Theo beat him to it. He heard the other boy’s footsteps and nearly ignored them. After a few minutes, he decided to indulge his curiosity instead.

“Theo?” He padded out of the room with a wince, the stone floor too cold for bare feet.

Nott was sitting in Harry’s summer spot, the stone outcropping below the window. Harry chose the much warmer armchair by the banked fire, not waiting for Theo to reply. Given time, Theo moved over to the sofa.

“My father,” Nott began, twisting his fingers in his pockets, “was not the first to follow the Dark Lord, but he walked among them. He says they used to call themselves Knights, not Death Eaters. He said You-Know-Who was a visionary. I’m not sure how much of it is madness, or guilt, or fact. He genuinely believed in the cause. I think even now… Even now, given the chance, he would go back to him.”

Harry sat very still, and didn’t say anything.

“I’m not ashamed of being his son. Not even now.” Theo stood up, like he had to walk off the energy of the sentence. He meandered back to the windows, facing away. “I just don’t know what he was thinking. What he _is_ thinking. But I wanted to tell you in particular that the things they’re saying about my family are true.”

“You don’t owe me any explanation, Theo. I’m sorry that this mess has brought attention to you again, just when the gossip was beginning to get stale. You’ve never been anything but a friend to me, and that’s all I care about.” Theo came back and sat with a muffled thump. They sat together there for a while, both trying to think of something else to say. The air was clear, and both had said their piece. That’s really all there was.

\--

The extended group’s breakfast was interrupted by the Headmaster himself.

“Hello, students! Lovely day.” Harry looked up. The enchanted ceiling was a dim drizzle, distant clouds scudding across.

“If you say so, Professor Dumbledore.”

“I wish I could say so again.” The Headmaster’s prominent twinkle dimmed as he turned his eyes to Harry. They didn’t even meet his before he flicked down to Gryffindor red. “Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. And Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley.” Indeed, the twins had invaded, not for the first time. They exchanged a look that Harry didn’t understand.

“Professor,” they nodded in unison.

“I believe you might be at the wrong table,” he commented, like it was still about the weather.

“Professor, we eat here sometimes to chat with Harry and the bunch.” Hermione blinked up at Dumbledore.

Blaise mouthed, ‘Harry and the bunch’ sarcastically.

“As it is, Miss Granger, perhaps you and Misters Weasley ought to return to your own house.”

“But Professor,”

“While I am always willing to discuss inter-house unity, perhaps this isn’t the time.” Dumbledore smiled, but his voice was iron. Harry waved desolately as they all left, and Dumbledore swept away.

He noticed something just in time, eyes panning back across the Great Hall. Luckily, Hermione was talking to Ron, and she was facing the Slytherins.

Harry jutted his chin at the head table significantly, so that Hermione would understand. She caught his eyes and the direction he was indicating, then frowned. Hagrid was gone. Hagrid never missed breakfast entirely. Something was very wrong.

\--

“Father had him sacked,” Malfoy mumbled, reading over the letter in the common room that evening. “I didn’t- I didn’t tell him, before you ask.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sure he has better sources than his twelve year old son. It wouldn’t have mattered if you did. He would have found out eventually. But Hagrid’s innocent, and they’ll realize it soon enough. The attacks won’t stop with him gone.”

“But they did last time, right? The attacks stopped when he was expelled?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose they must have. But it wasn’t him.” Draco dragged his hand down his face in exasperation.

“Well we can’t just ask Hagrid anymore. So.” He made a rather vehement ‘what’ motion with his hands. “Now what do we do?” A curious face looked over at them, and Theo motioned for Draco to keep it down. They were getting kind of loud for an occupied common room.

Toning down obligingly, Harry offered, “You guys are going on holidays in a week. I’ll see what I can find in the library while you’re gone.” Draco made an unimpressed face. “What?”

“No offence, Potter, but Granger’s not going to be here to help you. And what’s more, she’s already combed the school library for information.”

“Well, I’ve got a source she doesn’t have.”

“Right, your mystery memory source.” Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t argue with the truth.

“What about Dumbledore?” Blaise volunteered.

“What about him?”

“He’s been here forever. He was a professor before he was Headmaster. He taught Transfiguration.” Harry’s thoughts flashed to the Dumbledore of Tom’s time, short-bearded and serious.

“Yes!” He sat up straight, then sagged. “No. Dumbledore’s cryptic at the best of times, and if today told us anything it’s that he doesn’t trust us.”

“Or he doesn’t trust the Gryffindors,” Blaise tried. “No, you’re right. It’s definitely us.”

“Maybe he’ll be a little softer over the holidays.”

“Maybe the Heir will have a change of heart, Christmas spirit and all,” Malfy replied sarcastically.

“I’m trying to be optimistic here. It’s exhausting.” Leaning back into the comfort of his chair, Harry sighed.

\--

Harry wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done this earlier, but their conversation had given him the idea. He twitched his fingers down the row. “1970… 1965… 1959… there!” He tugged at the appropriate book. It wouldn’t have a picture or anything, but school records would at least have Tom’s name, and he could make sure he wasn’t crazy about that part.

And… there it was. “Tom Marvolo Riddle. Wand: Yew, phoenix feather. 13 ½ inches, Unyielding. He existed, at least And here… special award for services to the school? I wonder…” Harry thought to himself, it’s entirely possible he’s still alive. But what if he wanted the diary back? He couldn’t just show up and say, Hello! I’ve found your possibly-illegal memory storage device!

“What are you researching in there, Harry? Anything interesting?” She lowered her voice. “Anything about the Chamber?”

“Hermione!” She blinked at his surprise. “Er. No, I was just looking up someone who used to go here. I think I picked up a book that used to belong to him.”

“There are a lot of signed or scribbled-in books here,” she sighed. “Even a magic library can’t curtail teenagers.”

“Right. Ever seen something from him?” He held out the heavy, wide volume to her and tapped Tom’s name.

“Tom Riddle? Hmm.” It was strange, hearing his name from someone else. Like he should have protected it. She handed the book back. “I can’t say I have. Would you like me to help?”

“No thanks. It was just a bit of curiosity.” He smiled at her, wishing he could curb the interest in her eyes. “I’m sure he was nobody.”

“But it says here he got an award. You don’t want to know what it was for, or anything?”

“Nope.” He shrugged and set the volume back onto the shelf with the rest. “Curiosity satisfied.”

\--

Harry exchanged short goodbyes and promises to write with Blaise and Draco, who departed early to get good seats on the train. Hermione hung back.

“Take care, Harry.” Hermione hugged him goodbye, and he tried not to squirm.

“Of course, Hermione. See you when you get back.”

“I mean it, be safe. You’re half-blood, and any serial killer gets angry when his work is being attributed to someone else.” She pronounced the words like some homebred wisdom, like baking soda gets out stains.

“Right. I’ll be careful.” She sniffed a little, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was from tears or doubt. She turned off, tugging Ron with her. Ron just waved over his shoulder. Harry grinned at him, waving back.

Fred and George stopped on their way past him.

“Just a heads up, Harry,”

“Ron already had two of that poster you gave him last year,”

“So no getting him another easy Chudley Cannons thing.” One of them winked.

The twins followed Ron, taking a moment to salute Harry strangely. Or maybe everything they did was strange. He saluted back. Percy came last in the train, hustling out the doors with Ginny in tow.

She waved to him, but Percy hissed something at her before he could return it. She turned a bit red and looked angry at Percy, so Harry turned to Theo instead.

“Not going, Theo?” He just turned to look at Harry, and he thought it through. Of course Nott wasn’t going home. His father was still under investigation, or at the very least suspicion. “I mean, er… Do you feel like playing some wizard’s chess? Or gobstones?”

He did.

\--

Harry spent the first few days of break just in the common room, actually getting his coursework finished early. He told himself he was being responsible instead of putting off research. When all of it was done, he had no choice but to start on what he promised. He sat in the library and made no progress. It was annoying. More than that, it was boring.

He decided he should cut out the middleman, meaning books, and just to ask Tom. He convinced Seshhe to go for a little slither down to Hagrid’s. Honestly the snake seemed glad to be rid of his complaining.

He settled in at the single desk in the corner of the common room. Theo was reading comfortably on the couch.

_Tom_

**_Hello Harry. It’s been a while._ **

_I do have schoolwork to do, most of the time._

**_An attentive student?_ **

_Middling._

**_Modesty?_ **

_All false. I’m actually brilliant. But I wanted to ask you more about the Chamber._

**_Of course._ **

_I still don’t believe Hagrid could have done it. But did the attacks stop, after? I assumed yes, because you got an award and the school obviously wasn’t closed._

**_Correct._ **

_And that was it? They called it solved?_

**_It was. Except Hagrid stayed on as groundskeeper._ **

_And the monster got away. But the chamber’s not a little box, and Hagrid no Heir. How could they leave it at that? How could you?_

**_I showed you. I had nowhere else to go. I was grateful the school would stay open, and I found it highly likely Hagrid could set a beast on a student. They calmed themselves with the idea that the Heir was a fantasy, and it was just another student’s dangerous pet. It seems they were wrong._ **

_We need to stop the attacks before it gets that far. Two people are already petrified, how long before Dumbledore decides we’re safer at home?_

**_Perhaps you would be._ **

_Safe locked in my room versus learning magic? It’s no choice at all._

**_Agreed. Though I began to learn even locked in a room._ **

_Somehow that doesn’t surprise me._ Harry stopped writing, thinking of how to phrase his next question. Eventually, he figured it might just be best to get it over with.

_Did you need it? Every time I did magic before Hogwarts, I was scared. Or angry._

**_You could say I had an unhappy childhood, yes._ **

_Makes me wish I could share memories like you can. I bet there’s a few things we have in common._

 Tom didn’t write back for a good while. Harry was deliberating asking about the Chamber yet again, just to prove to himself he’d really tried, when the next words shifted into view.

**_Being a memory is limiting at best. Magic is near limitless; it works within its own laws, by its own volition. Accidental magic can be as powerful as the most complicated charm with only a child’s will._ **

_So there’s probably a way, but you don’t know._

**_Essentially._ **

**_How about I show you more about my investigation into the Heir?_ **

Their sudden return to the previous topic made Harry blink, but if Tom was uncomfortable he could understand.

_I suppose if you don’t know about the Chamber that’s just as good._

**_It will have to be a trade._ **

_What could I possibly give you?_

**_We’ll call it a debt. I’m sure I’ll think of something._ **

_How ominous._

**_Don’t you trust me by now? Have I ever led you astray?_ **

_My snake doesn’t like you._

**_Understandable. Powerful magical artifacts tend to drive most animals away._ **

_Alright. If you won’t do it to help, I’ll owe you._ If Harry had a few more years’ education, or maybe if he was paying a bit more attention, he would have felt the tiny magical ‘snick’ of something in him turning over. Alas, he did not. ~~~~

**_I’ll have to show you, once again. Ready?_** Harry packed up his things quickly, but not rushed, and when Theo wasn’t looking he stole back to the room.

_Ready._

The kaleidoscopic feeling was much less nauseating now, and he could focus as Tom led him through weekends in the library, researching genealogy. Asking favors of pureblood friends, cradling crumbling books with scraps of information. Stalking the halls at night looking for the mythical Chamber.

A tired but accomplished-looking Riddle smiling at another boy, saying “Spread the word, that the attacks are by the hand of the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Did you make up that nickname?” Harry asked the air.

“Not quite,” someone answered. A second Tom Ridde appeared beside him as the memory paused. He looked as delighted as the mirror image across from them.

Tom looked to be studying his own face.

“Riddle? Is that you?”

“I suppose almost as much as that,” he pointed “is me.”

“So this is just something you can do now?”

Tom didn’t even look at him. “Yes.” He just kept staring at his own face.

“Was there anything else you wanted to show me?” Harry folded his arms.

“I was thinking about what you wrote, about sharing your memories. I think, like this, you could.”

“Oh!” Harry relaxed again and began to think about what he would share. “How do I- oh.” They were in his cupboard at the Dursleys’, bare bulb above them swinging shadows across the wall. Rather, one shadow. Harry looked down on his younger self, absentmindedly shuffling a plastic car missing a wheel. He couldn’t remember being that small. His face warmed with embarrassment. “This isn’t what I wanted to show.”

Tom carefully averted his gaze to the wall, like he was respecting Harry’s privacy. “The process does seem simpler than I expected.”

“So maybe just…” He thought of a happier memory, hunkered down on his belly as he spoke to a couple of grass snakes in the weeds behind Aunt Petunia’s bougainvillea. He had set out a dish of water, and they were making soft sounds of contentment. Harry was muttering to them in Parseltongue about his day chores, how he could use a nap in the shade.

Harry looked over to Tom, who was staring intently at the younger Harry.

“Maybe…” Harry’s memory flickered to the earliest accidental magic he could remember, the top of the roof with Dudley and Piers Polkiss staring gape-mouthed from below.

In the next moment they were in the zoo for Dudley’s birthday, and Harry was talking to a snake for the very first time. Harry watched as the whole thing unraveled, and the younger Harry unintentionally vanished the glass.

“Wait,” Tom inhaled deeply. He looked like he was swaying a bit on his feet, but he hadn’t gone pale. In fact, he seemed flushed.

“Sorry.” Harry focused on not thinking of memories, which was easier said than done.

But the room whirled again and he was in the dark, listening to Riddle mutter. He turned his head to see Tom curled over a book by candlelight, face inches from the paper and tracing his finger along a line. “The Slytherin line was one of the most powerful, continuing on to recent past only in the female line, where it finally died out,” He read aloud. “But it must not have. The Heir is alive,” he whispered to himself excitedly.

Harry turned to find the other Riddle, but he had vanished.

\--

Days passed quietly, and more often than not Harry couldn’t make the effort to remember how he spent them. However, a singular brief spark of anxiety lifted the weight.

Theo was standing beside his bed, holding the diary. Harry’s heart nearly stopped, and he stepped close to pull it out of Theo’s hand. Thankfully, Theo didn’t resist.

“Easy,” Theo said to Harry’s crazy eyes. “Your snake pushed it out from behind your pillow, and I just picked it up from the ground.”

“Alright.” Harry nodded a bit too much, and hugged the diary to his chest. “That’s fine. You didn’t open it?”

“I didn’t read any of it. Didn’t even look at it.” He raised his hands slightly, palms up.

“Okay. Fine. Okay. _Seshhe?”_ His familiar didn’t emerge. Nott stepped out of the way, and Harry pulled up the covers. No snake. He peered under the bed.

“ _You said you wouldn’t, but you are. I know it.”_ Seshhe hissed at him. Harry stood back up, smiling weakly at Theo.

“He’s just a bit cranky. Winter, you know.” Theo looked sideways at him, but nodded slow and left the room. Harry tucked the diary into his book bag and didn’t spare Seshhe another glance.

\--

“Hello Harry! Did you get your Christmas gift?” Oh? Had he missed the sparsely-populated Christmas feast? Surely someone would have gotten him. Had he even sent out gifts?

“Yeah, thanks. Brilliant. I’ll definitely use it,” Harry murmured distractedly. Hermione would have gotten him something he could use.

“Good! I loved the earmuffs you got me. The charms on it are actually fascinating… but anyway.

“I looked into your book-sharing, just for fun. I got absolutely nowhere on the Chamber, but Tom Riddle,”

Harry finally looked up at her directly. “What?”

“You know, you were looking him up just before break?”

“I told you I didn’t need to know anything else, though.”

“Yes, but it’s not every day somebody pulls those public records, so,”

“I told you not to look into it, Hermione!” His voice was too-loud and angry in the hall, and people turned to stare.

She stared at him, too, shocked by his outburst. He gripped the strap of his bag across his chest and stormed off. He didn’t care if she was offended. She shouldn’t have looked up Tom.

\--

“Gristleroot.”

“ _Gristleroot.”_ Harry said at the wall impatiently. Nothing happened

Malfoy looked at him funny. “Password’s changed. _Pure-blood_.” Harry closed his eyes against the lump in his throat. Right. He knew that. Hadn’t the password changed just a few days ago? He shook the thought out of his mind as the wall opened up. It didn’t matter.

\--

Harry picked up the diary and a slim box fell out of his bag. He opened it to find a beautiful quill and ink set. He wondered for a moment where he had gotten it, and finally remembered it was a gift. From Hermione. For Christmas. Details filtered in slowly, through a fog. Had he said thanks? Probably. He enjoyed using it. He should probably say thanks again, just in case.

\--

Zabini sighed heavily and gestured him over. Harry stepped closer carefully. “What are you up to, Blaise?”

“I can’t stand it anymore. You really, really don’t know how to tie your tie properly, and since you’ve stopped taking care of yourself it’s just degraded further.” He reached out and did up Harry’s tie before he could even flinch back. “There you go.” He smoothed out the edges. “Even your dark sunken eyes are no match for Slytherin green.”

“Er… thanks? And I’m not not taking care of myself?”

“You’re welcome. And try not to say that as a question. Now I’ve stayed back to help you out, and we’re late for breakfast, so you owe me your History of Magic notes.”

Harry blinked. “Can I give you Hermione’s when I get them from her?”

“Even better.”

\--

Harry slammed through the common room with a growled passphrase “Pure-blood.” Theo was standing there, parchment and quill in hand. He’d either just finished his work, or he was settling in. Malfoy trailed into the room behind him, disturbed by Harry’s rage.

“You were the only one who knew where it was!”

Theo caught on immediately. “I didn’t tell anyone, I swear. And I didn’t steal it.”

“It was probably a girl, you know, Potter, always popular,” Draco teased nervously.

Harry rounded on him. “Don’t joke about this!” He yelled.

“Listen to yourself, Harry. This isn’t like you, first in the hall and now here. This is Theo!”

“Who else could have taken it but you, Nott?” It wasn’t much of a question, more an accusation.

“Anyone could have. Harry Potter’s diary? Malfoy might have been joking, but I know of a few Slytherin girls who are more than crafty enough to see it as a way in.”

Harry’s posture softened from murderous to confused. “You didn’t take it.”

“No,” Theo replied just as intensely.

Harry fell back into a convenient armchair. Thankfully, only a couple other students were in the common room. Enough to spread rumors, but nothing concrete. “Somebody took it,” he keened softly. “I need to get it back.”

\--

Draco and Harry were stopped at the gate to the Quidditch pitch. It was time for practice, but the whole team was still buzzing around outside. “What do you reckon?” Malfoy asked quietly. It was best to be quiet with Harry these days. His mood swings and accidental magic made him risky at best

Harry shrugged.

What’s more, Malfoy thought to himself, Harry’s familiar had up and left him. That was a destabilizing influence. But he could have sworn causality in this case was attitude to snake, and he didn’t understand the attitude. Malfoys hated being the last to know. Theo still kept his mouth shut about what had been taken, and without it Draco had nothing to go on. So, here they were. Waiting for Quidditch practice.

But McGonagall swept out the gate and pushed them all back with her voice. “There will be no practice today. Back to your dormitory. Mr. Flint, if I could have a word?”

“Hang ‘round,” Flint directed them. Draco tried his best to eavesdrop, but couldn’t get anything from them. McGonagall shot them all a cautionary look, hanging up on Harry’s listless stare. She turned and locked the gate behind her. Definitely no practice, then.

“Bunch up, now,” Flint called. When the team was all together, he pointed to Derrick, one of their beaters. “You seen Logs?” Now that Flint said it, she was missing. When Derrick shook his head, Flint cursed. “Alright. It’ll be all over the school in a matter of seconds, so. Little girl Weasley found her early this morning. She’s in there.” He jutted his head awkwardly to the pitch. “Petrified.” Half the team turned to look at Harry, Draco included. He didn’t want to think it, but… Harry barely reacted, just a furrow between his eyebrows.

“But we haven’t got a full team,”

“She was pure-blood!”

“She was Slytherin,” Pucey pointed out. “You know what this means?”

Draco closed his eyes against his own words. “It means nobody’s safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a bit late! A longer chapter to make up for it. Picking up the story's pace here, now that all the characters are involved. If you find anything wrong, please let me know! I do my own proofreading, and everyone knows what that means... I miss stuff. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

Harry didn’t exactly get better after Logs was petrified. He was driven to catch the Heir again, determined to figure out the mystery of the Chamber, furiously searching for the diary. Where once he was reluctant to get involved, now he was obsessed. He started tracking down Slytherin’s genealogy, a fascination that Hermione picked up on with glee. He stopped sleepwalking, but he didn’t look any better. Draco and Theo thought maybe it was time for some Slytherin house intervention.

\--

“Mr. Potter! Harry.” Lockhart’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder and steered him into an alcove. “I couldn’t help noticing that in my last class you were a bit out of sorts. Fame got you down? Not progressing as you’d like? Hm?” He barely waited for Harry’s response- a blink- before he was off again. “Not to worry, I’ve just the thing, here, a bit of a pepper-up I’ve developed. Now, stand still,”

“Lockhart,” a voice stilled him. “I believe we’ve previously discussed the school’s policy on performing magic on students. Especially,” Snape loomed over Lockhart’s head despite the marginal height difference. “Without their consent.” Lockhart had it in him to squeak.

“Oh, Harry and I were just chatting, you know,” he lowered his wand by degrees. “He mentioned feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Mr. Potter. If you would follow me.”

“Now, Severus,” Snape didn’t even respond to the protest, just tapped Lockhart’s grip away from Harry’s shoulder. Harry followed close.

They got down the hall and heard Lockhart’s classroom door close before Snape looked him over. “I trust there’s been no further harm from your ‘Professor’ friend.”

“Thanks to you, sir. And I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“Quite. Perhaps in the future you would do best to avoid Gilderoy Lockhart’s wand.”

Harry frowned. “Is he dangerous?”

“Only in the way a monkey with a knife is dangerous.” Harry’s eyes widened. “Capable of causing all sorts of damage to itself and others, but without malice.” At Harry’s silence, he continued. “He’s stupid, Mr. Potter. Despite his house. Perhaps it’s not stupidity so much as a lack of common sense, but really one follows the other.” He stopped outside the doors of the Great Hall. “I realize the Headmaster has spoken to you.”

Harry nodded.

“I also understand that he can be...” He trailed off and tried again. “I am your head of house. If there’s something bothering you, I trust you would bring it to my attention.”

“There’s nothing. Other than Professor Lockhart, sir.”

“But was there something?” Snape’s near-black eyes looked right through him. Strange how that kept happening.

“Yes,” Harry nodded slowly. “There was something I should have been bothered by. But it’s gone.” Harry couldn’t keep the gloom from his voice.

“Some things are best left lie, Mr. Potter. Can I at least expect you to understand that much?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“My office hours are three to five every weekday afternoon this term. They are posted on the common room wall. I imagine, in the future, you will use them.”

“Yes, Professor.”

And Snape got to walk off to lunch, expecting that whole mess sorted. Expecting that he could report back to Draco Malfoy the crisis was handled, and really, he shouldn’t be disturbed by whatever problem Harry Potter was having when there’s a wave of petrification sweeping the school. He expected too much.

\--

Harry gathered up the courage to go see Hagrid two days after his return.

“Hullo, Harry!” He looked much worse for wear. Pale, drawn. His eyes were slightly glazed. “I’m not quite fit for company just yet,”

“Don’t worry about it, Hagrid.” Harry stepped through the door as gently as he could. “I was just wondering if I could do anything for you. We haven’t seen you in the castle since you came back.”

Hagrid’s eyes filled up with tears. “Bless, Harry. No, I’m all set. On house arrest, but after Dumbledore came ‘round they couldn’t keep me. Another attack and all, and I’m no’ here. Don’t make much sense.”

Harry sat restlessly as Hagrid chattered about what he’d been doing to catch up with the school’s grounds. He really just wanted to ask his question.

“Say, Hagrid, did you by any chance go to Hogwarts with someone named Tom Riddle?” The whole cabin stilled.

Hagrid’s face went a mottled puce color that Harry hadn’t seen on skin before. “R-riddle? No, Harry. And you ought not meddle in stuff like that.”

“Come on, Hagrid. What shouldn’t I meddle in?”

“Listen, Riddle was older than me. So I didn’t know him. And all I can say is that he wasn’t the good kind of Slytherin, alright? Whatever you came across that mentioned him, or whoever told you- get out of it.” Hagrid stood quickly and shuffled him to the door. “I’ve got to- I’ve got to do something. Harry, promise me. Don’t look for Tom Riddle.” He turned Harry around to look at him, his finger pointing accusingly.

“Alright, Hagrid. Whatever you say.” Harry was lying to a closed door.

\--

A notice was posted in the Great Hall; Quidditch was cancelled for the rest of the year. The mood in the hall was bleak, the players grumpy.

Harry wished he could be unhappy about Quidditch being cancelled, but if he were being honest he was relieved. Getting up on the weekends had become torturous, the practices themselves exercises in distraction. Not to mention the last practice they’d been missing a member. He couldn’t help but imagine the scene. Where had the youngest Weasley found her? By the stands? Center field? Ever since, the girl had been pale and shaky. Ron was really worried, and by extension Harry was as well.

He was worried for Logs. The whole team had gone to visit her. She looked a lot smaller, laying frozen in fear. Her eyes were wide, one hand rounded by her face like she was gripping something. The other petrified students were curtained off for privacy. Harry left quickly. Not even the Slytherins thought him innocent now, and he had no desire to hang around so many suspicious glares. Worse still were those who looked at him in awe.

\--

Timed passed strangely for Harry. What used to jump and skip now seemed plodding and annoying. Classes seemed to take up so much more of his day, and he missed his friend’s input on his lessons. But time passed all the same, and he kept waking up in the mornings, and eventually he woke up in February.

The Valentine’s Day debacle started rather quietly. Just him, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass in the common room. He was toiling over a rather convoluted family tree. Why did wizarding families need to be so incestuous? Pansy and Greengrass were working on something much more schoolwork-related, or so Harry thought. “Aha!” Pansy finally cried, and Daphne cheered. The two looked around to see Harry looking at them curiously, so Pansy explained.

“I’m sure you’ve missed it, Potter, but today happens to be St. Valentine’s. Professor Lockhart has his own idea of a morale-booster, and it’s hideous. I’d much rather do this.” She pointed her wand at him, and before Harry could even flinch she pronounced “ _Volant Valentin!”_ And an ocean of pink and purple erupted from her wand. Harry was practically plastered in his chair by multicolored paper, and Pansy was roaring with laughter, only drowned out by Greengrass. “Best run, Potter! If you sit still too long, they’ll start sighing your name!”

Harry knew when he was beat. He shoved off the majority and ran out into the hall, chased not only by the valentine hearts but by whoops of laughter. At least he had made their day. As he flew down corridor after corridor, it seemed he was actually lifting spirits. Who was the Heir? Certainly not that idiot being chased by paper valentines.

 

Harry ducked into an empty classroom to avoid Pansy’s floating squadron. When he turned around, he realized it wasn’t exactly empty. Ginny Weasley sat on the floor behind a row of desks, crying. Her shock at his appearance had stopped the flood for now, but her snotty face told the tale of a rather extended bawling session.

“Er…” Harry started. She sniffled. “Hey, Ginny. Mind if I hide in here with you? Pansy’s got a tracking spell that makes these paper hearts follow you, and it’s getting a bit hard to see… oh, I’m sorry, please don’t cry,” because she had started up again with a sound like a chainsaw.

“N-n-not y-your fault,” she wailed. Harry knew that, he just didn’t know how to get her to stop.

“How about you tell me about it?” He offered hesitantly, lowering himself to the cold stone floor to join her.

“W-well. T-there’s this boy,” she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. Harry nodded in a way he hoped was encouraging, though he didn’t know anything about boy problems. “A-and I like him.” Harry had understood that much, at least. “But he- he doesn’t like me.” She drew out the end of ‘me’ into a long whine. Harry was mostly feeling awkward, but was empathetic enough to feel bad about it.

“I’m sorry, Ginny. That’s terrible.”

“It’s fine, really,” she gathered herself. “I mean, it’s practically a given, but…”

“Don’t say that.” Harry admonished. “You’re great. Ron says all the time that next to Hermione you’re one of the smartest people he knows.”

Ginny sniffed. “Ron’s no expert.”

Harry laughed at that, and wondered how long it had actually been since he laughed. It felt good. “No, but I think he knows you pretty well, being your brother and all.”

“Yeah.” She pushed her hair back from her face and smiled. “I’m not- I mean, I’m not boy-crazy, you know?” He tried to look innocent, though he might have thought that. “I know what a crush is. But I’ve got this friend, and I told them who I liked and they said…” She now looked angry instead of upset. “They didn’t really say, more implied that I wasn’t good enough.”

“Bloody hell.” Ginny straightened in surprise at the expletive. “Er, sorry. It’s just, that’s a really terrible friend, right?”

“Right. Though, maybe I took it the wrong way? This friend is usually really nice.” Ginny turned thoughtful. “I think I’ll just ask for an explanation. I was going to… well, nevermind.”

“But other than that, you’re ok, right? I’m just asking because Ron was pretty worried. He said you haven’t been eating right.”

“Just some nightmares. Do you ever get them?”

Harry nodded. “More than you know. Come on, I think maybe the coast is clear.” He got up off the cold ground and peered out the door. Not a heart in sight. “Alright! Let’s get out of this stuffy classroom.”

“Thanks, Harry.” She looked at him shyly. “Not everyone would have sat with me like that.”

“You’re the sister of one of my best mates,” he smiled. “That practically makes you family.”

Her brightness dimmed a little. “Oh. I guess that’s good.” Before Harry could ask her about it, a flurry of paper hearts rounded the corner.

“I’ve got to go, Ginny. Seriously, don’t let that friend get you down. I’m sure they’re just jealous. Bye!” She waved goodbye as he raced off, followed swiftly by a trail of pink and purple hearts.

\--

Hermione cornered him after Defense, tugging Ron along behind her as usual. “Hey, Harry. Let’s have a chat.” She didn’t really leave him a choice, pulling him by his sleeve. Harry was beginning to think this was set up, as Malfoy waved goodbye to the others and pushed him along.

“Where are we going?” He asked, amused.

“A little privacy is in order, I think,” she replied primly. Ron made a commiserating face at him, and Harry began to get a little worried.

“This will do nicely,” she proclaimed, and slid open a door to a glorified broom closet. It had shelving on either side with suspicious-looking knickknacks, including what looked like a cat’s skull. She brought out four chairs from who knows where and gestured for them to sit down. Their knees were practically knocking together. “We’re here today to talk about you, Harry.”

“Alright? What about me.”

“Your recent behavior, and your disregard for your health.”

“Yeah,” Ron supported weakly.

“I feel fine, Hermione. Really. I’d be better if the whole school didn’t think I was setting a monster on them, but as things are I rather think I’m doing well!”

 “You’re, ugh!” Hermione pulled out a book and flipped through it. “It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Let’s see… intervention, realization, determination, support.”

Malfoy looked down. “I think muggle mind medicine isn’t going to work. I still say we send him to the hospital wing, if he won’t talk to Professor Snape.”

Hermione changed tactics, making her voice soft and slow. “Aren’t you the slightest bit scared, Harry?”

Harry tightened his mouth in annoyance. He wasn’t, but he wouldn’t say that. He just didn’t feel threatened by the Heir. He couldn’t say that, either. They took his silence as confusion.

“What about for us?” Ron added.

“Of course,” Harry replied immediately. “That’s a silly question. I would never let anything happen to you guys if I could prevent it. That’s why I have to figure out who it is. The Heir has to be of Slytherin’s blood, by definition. Right? So we just have to find him. Wizards are so obsessed with lineage, I thought it would be easy.”

“But I haven’t turned up anything, Harry. No living descendants.” Hermione pointed out. “And while we’re stalled on it, I’m more worried about you.”

“I know it seems like they’ve died out, but I know there’s something missing. Something we’ve overlooked.”

“You’re obsessed. Take a break, that’s all we’re asking.”

“Take a break and do what? Wait for the next person to be petrified? Or killed? Wait for the school to be closed?”

“Yes!” Ron clapped his hands to his knees. “Just lie low. Every time you show up for class like the living dead another kid’s convinced you’re the Boglebeast. Fred and George have been campaigning for you, you know, and Ginny won’t hear a word against you, and you know we’re on your side, but you’re making it bloody hard for us, aren’t you?”

“Fine! Don’t look for the diary, Harry, don’t look for the Chamber, Harry. Don’t look for Tom, or the Heir, or a way to keep the school safe.” He tucked his face into his hands and dragged them through his hair. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“We’re not saying give up,” Hermione wavers. “Just, you need to take care of yourself. You need to let us help you. And you need to keep what we’re doing secret.”

“So that’s what the closet was about.” Malfoy tilted his head back. “I was wondering.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t want us hanging around you, Harry.”

“Even he thinks I’m the Heir. At this point maybe I should just embrace it, skulk around.”

“Well…” Hermione edged. “Speaking of skulking around. This wasn’t all just about you. I think I’ve made progress on our monster.”

“Really?” Harry perked up immensely. “What is it, then?”

“It’s a theory, really. Barely the edges of one. But it would make sense. Before I tell you, though, I want you to look at something with me.” She stood up in a rustle of robes.

“Where to?””

“Well, not now. After supper, of course.”

“Of course,” Ron replied happily. And so, of course, they waited. Harry’s feet tapped a sluggish impatient rhythm on the floor through the whole meal, driving Draco to distraction. When Hermione finally stood, way across the hall, he pulled Draco up without even letting him finish his spoonful of pudding.

Hermione waited for them outside the Great Hall, seeming just as impatient. “I have a little experiment. In the dungeons.” She stalked off, and the rest had little choice but to follow.

“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to avoid the dungeons,” Draco muttered.

“Haven’t you learned better by now?” Ron replied. “Hermione goes where she wants, and it’ll be worse for you if you try to stop her.” Harry shrugged in silent agreement as they made their way past the Slytherin common room’s hidden entrance. They came up to the potions classroom and slipped inside.

“I was down here a few nights ago, never mind why,”

“I bet she was trying to beat me in potions,” Draco stage-whispered, and Hermione colored. She cleared her throat.

“Like I said. Never mind why, but I heard this rhythmic hissing, underneath the floor. And I thought, what’s down there? These are the dungeons! But,” she pointed down at the floor.

Harry looked where she pointed and saw nothing but stone. “Hermione, maybe spell it out for us.”

“We have potions here because of these,” she motioned to the floor. Harry finally noticed hair-thin streaks between a few of the stones, a darker bit of grout that might have actually been empty space.

“I thought Snape was just a dark and dingy sort of bloke,” Ron muttered.

“It’s for the drainage. Hazardous material can go right through to the magical reservoir beneath, it was in _Hogwarts, A History,_ honestly. It passes through the drain and into the castle’s core where the waste is rendered magically inert. It’s such complicated ancient magic, nobody knows how it works anymore. Even what we think we know about it is mostly theory.”

“What does this have to do with the Chamber?” Draco pointed out.

“Well, it would make sense for Slytherin to tie his Chamber to the ancient magic of the castle, right? If the point was to protect this place from, well, undesirables. Or mobs.”

“And the sound you heard?”

“I think” but Harry cut her off with a hand. There was a sound, and it wasn’t just nonsense.

“Parseltongue,” he said incredulously.

Hermione did an awkward little dance with her hands. “I knew it!”

Draco crouched nearer to the stones, but the whisper didn’t come again. “That sound… I think I heard it earlier this year. Do you remember, Harry, when I went to visit the portraits? And you followed me out and…”

“Tackled you,” Harry finished, “Because I heard something. But it’s strange, this isn’t- well, I’d say it’s not ‘active’ you know? Like, there’s a sort of tense to Parseltongue. It’s just… breathing. Saying that it’s there over and over, really quietly.”

“Well, I feel better about things. Even if you were the Heir, you wouldn’t have set it on Malfoy,” Ron pointed out.

“I thought we established I wasn’t the Heir!”

“Sort of, mate.” Ron pulled a face. “I mean, there’s a reason the whole school thought it was you.”

“But what if it was after you, Harry? Not Draco, but the person who let it out? Perhaps it was following you, and then when you heard it, you knew what it was subconsciously, so you stopped Draco.”

“Good grief, Potter, you almost killed me.”

“I saved you!”

“From your monster!”

“Which apparently speaks Parseltongue,” Harry supplied darkly. “All this is wild speculation, anyway. I’m not the Heir, I didn’t open the Chamber, and I certainly don’t know what the thing in the Chamber is.”

“I have an idea about that too,” Hermione brightened. “Picture this: big snake.”

“Erm. I’m picturing?” Harry didn’t follow.

“Killing gaze.” She elaborated.

“You think it’s a _basilisk?_ ” Malfoy closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. “It all lines up. The petrification- not seeing its eyes directly, but through a reflection or distorted lens… that’s a ridiculous amount of luck.”

“And the way it gets around. It must be through the pipes, that’s why we hear it through this room.” She produced a book from her bag. “It’s all in here. It’s only one page, so I thought about tearing it out, but I hardly think this is urgent enough to deface a book…”

“Explains how I can hear it speak.” Harry wasn’t exactly warming to the idea, but he had to admit it fit too well for coincidence. “But that doesn’t mean I’m the Heir. Maybe it’s just another Parselmouth here at Hogwarts, and it sent the basilisk after me intentionally.”

“But that was before everyone knew,” Draco pointed out. “Also, need I remind you Parseltongue is exceedingly rare? Exceedingly, Potter.”

“Alright, so… you put a watch on me? See if the attacks stop? Then what?”

Malfoy winced. “You’ve been sleepwalking. One time I followed you, but you didn’t go past the common room. I dismissed it.” He stood, brushing his hands against his robes.

“And you didn’t think to mention it. Bloody hell, I’ll be expelled for sure.”

“Not so fast. Do you remember what I told you, what my mother wrote?” Harry gave him a frustrated look. “Obviously not. I think you’re under the influence of a dark artifact. I mean, really. You, Heir of Slytherin? There’s no way. And Dumbledore wouldn’t throw you out for being controlled.” He looked away, then back. “But my father’s having Dumbledore removed.”

“What?” Hermione gasped.

“Well what do you expect? So many students petrified, and what are they doing? I bet with this,” he gestured to the ground, “we know more than every teacher here!”

“But it’s _Dumbledore,”_ she breathed, like his name would bring Malfoy to his senses.

“He’s not infallible, you know, and- did you hear that?” Draco cut off when Harry froze, one arm thrown out to quiet them.

The rustling of the Chamber’s monster came again.

_Kill… rip, tear… so cold. Cold. Kill…_

“We need to move.” Harry grunted, then when nobody responded “We need to move right now, right now, go!” They raced as one into the hall, where all the torches had gone out.

“ _Lumos,”_ Hermione cast automatically.

And something slithered against the corridor.

“Close your eyes,” Malfoy whispered harshly. Harry listened for it, determined it was coming down the hall to the right of the classroom, and grabbed Ron’s hand.

“Chain up,” he whispered, and they obliged. He tugged at Ron, who followed him, then Draco after, then Hermione. They stepped down the hall to the left.

“It may have come through the pipes, but how does it get from there to here? If it’s so big, there must be some kind of opening for it, else someone would see it...” Hermione spoke furiously, her free hand clapped over her eyes.

“Shh, Hermione.” Ron was right. So far nobody had died to this Basilisk, but Draco called them lucky. They didn’t want to broadcast where they were to Slytherin’s creature. Even if their eyes were closed, if it was after Harry, it could just as well eat him.

“I’m going to lead us away from it, ok?”

“Be careful, Harry. Eyes on the ground.”

“I can hear it. It’s just repeating the same thing, I think maybe it’s confused.” He shut his mouth firmly as he witnessed Hermione’s light flickering strangely on one of the walls. It was the ripple of snakeskin. “Hermione, _Nox.”_ Harry allowed his eyes to adjust. There was just enough light from down the hall to silhouette the beast.

By some miracle the basilisk was facing away from them, the coils of its body lost in the dim of the dungeons. A dark head swiveled at the end of it, searching. How could it have gotten in front of them so quickly? Harry hadn’t thought his heart could beat any faster. Harry led the chain silently back where they came, to find another coil of the beast before them. They were trapped. How big could this snake even be? Harry wished he had the invisibility cloak, but it was safe in his room. It wouldn’t cover all four of them anyway. He turned and tapped at Ron’s wrist, shaking his head when the other boy opened his eyes. He gestured back and forth, not saying anything to Ron’s panicked expression. He got Draco and Hermione’s attention, then outlined the plan in a series of gestures. It wasn’t a complicated one. Hermione looked like she would say something, and Draco just shook his head.

Ron tried to grip onto his hand when he let go, but Harry was already moving. First of all he would have to distance himself from them, give them at least enough room to run. The snake had to edge out of the way. But how could Harry get its attention, and not eye contact? Ah.

He scrambled hand over hand to clamber over the body of the great snake. He ignored stifled gasps behind him, focused on placing his hands surely. He had to be on the other side by the time the monstrous bulk of it whipped around to snap at him. Harry knew exactly how fast a snake could be, though hopefully this one would be slowed by its size. How could it possibly be eating enough to sustain itself?

_It isn’t,_ a terrible thought crossed his mind. He didn’t have time to explore it, considering the great writhing terror just missed him. He locked his eyes shut and bolted, spinning to a stop with his hands out when he figured the mass of it had unblocked the other end of the corridor. “ _Stop!”_ The sound of the snake slowed, and he took the chance of opening his eyes a fraction to see the body. It was raised like a cobra, facing him. That was lucky, as it meant he could see the basilisk’s motion. On one hand, the beast’s pause might have been recognition of Parseltongue. On the other, his arms might look more appetizing than his legs. “ _I am the true Heir of Slytherin.”_ A heartbeat passed, and Harry tried not to let any hesitation into his tone. “ _Go back home.”_ The basilisk did not move or speak. “ _Now!”_ It roared in response, a sound unlike any snake Harry had ever heard. He decided it would be best to start running.

\---

It took bare minutes to lose the basilisk’s echoing voice in the turns of the dungeons, but it felt like hours. He was suddenly very grateful for his knowledge of the dungeons’ twists and turns. Running into a dead end might have killed him. When Harry determined the beast was gone for the night, he turned back to the common room.

When he got back, Draco was sitting there, which was no big surprise. He was rather shocked to see Hermione and Ron shifting uncomfortably on the couch, though.

“Don’t let Snape catch them,” he remarked casually, trying to get his heart rate down.

“You think he’ll catch a little rule-bending when he couldn’t catch the great ruddy snake cornering students in the hall?” Draco sipped at something that steamed. Probably tea, though Harry would pay good galleons for a cup of hot cocoa. Or maybe ice water. He settled for collapsing to the sofa with the others. After a short lull, Ron began to giggle.

When they stared at him, he cupped a hand over his mouth and choked out, “I can’t help it. I mean,” he laughed harder, “a basilisk. Just… chasing Harry around the school. Bloody hell, where were the teachers?”

Hermione paled further, if possible.

Draco just sipped at his tea. “You showed a disgusting amount of Gryffindor self-sacrifice. No offense,” Draco commented to the others.

“I had a plan, not a death wish,” Harry pointed out, “and it worked, didn’t it?”

“It keeps running through my head, the image of you going over it like a climbing frame,” Ron breathed through his hysteria, hands out to mime it. “Mad.” Harry set to grin back, because it was rather mad on the other side of it, but Draco groaned.

“Don’t encourage him, Weasley. He didn’t really have a plan, he just- what exactly did you do on the other side of the colossal thing to get it to go after you? Spell some sparks and set off running?”

“I told it I was the true Heir.” He braced himself for backlash, which he got.

“And it _believed_ you?” Malfoy stuttered.

“Not really.” He evaded. “It just hesitated a bit. Gave me enough time to book it, when I realized it wasn’t going to talk back.”

“So it… nearly obeys you? That doesn’t make any sense,” Hermione protested faintly.

“No,” Harry replied grimly. “It doesn’t.” He was startled by the appearance of another cup of tea in front of him. He sipped from it. Yuck, chamomile. He drank it anyway.

\--

The four of them settled into a new rhythm. Nobody walked alone by the school’s rules, but Harry was never alone anymore. Ever. He woke up, and Draco was there. When he couldn’t be, Harry was strictly commanded to hang out in the common area with Blaise and Theo. Harry went to class, lunch, class, and met up with the others in the library for piles of research that never got anywhere. Bloodlines and Parseltongue curled together, dead ends in books that barely made mention of a toad and a rooster.

They made it work, and Harry wanted to rip out his own hair.

\--

Two weeks later, without a lick of progress, another message: _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever._

Lockhart babbled some nonsense about the monster’s nature, all wrong of course. Dumbledore wasn’t even there- Draco’s father had him removed, just in time for the worst to happen.

Snape and McGonagall exchanged a frightfully commiserating glance behind Lockhart’s back. Harry thought he might have shared that look with every other student that Lockhart had ever taught. Obviously, the other teachers hated hearing Lockhart prattle on about himself as much as the students did. He nearly laughed despite the terrible situation, or perhaps because of it. He did feel a bit shocky.

Ron, his designated follower for the hour, couldn’t stop gaping at the blood-red scrawl. After a fair minute, McGonagall gripped him by the shoulder and gave him to his brothers, who were all pale as death. Harry wanted more than anything to hug them, console them, be a part of their support, but he had something else to take care of.

He knew absolutely he wasn’t responsible for Ginny’s fate. But he had failed her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter beat me. I rewrote it a lot and redid parts at a time, so if there's some discontinuity be a friend and let me know?


	9. Chapter 9

 

Harry barely stepped into the dormitory when Draco gripped the front of his robes and pushed him off balance. “I swear on my blood, Potter,” Draco hissed, “If you go into the Chamber of Slytherin and you don’t take me with you I will curse you until the day I die.”

Harry raised his hands. “That’s not much of a threat. You don’t need it anyhow, I was just coming here to let you know we will, in fact, be staging a daring rescue. Which obviously you had already figured out.”

Draco let him go. Harry didn’t bother to set his book bag down, just grabbed the invisibility cloak out of the chest at the foot of his bed before they headed out the door.

“Do you have a plan? Or, you know, a rooster?”

“Neither. Hagrid’s roosters were all mysteriously killed, remember? I’m not even sure that the Chamber is where I think it is. But the girl, the one from last time, died in a bathroom. You know where a ghost in a bathroom is?”

“Oh, not Moaning Myrtle,” Draco groaned.

With a decided nod, Harry muttered, “Moaning Myrtle.”

 

Theo blocked their exit from the common room. Harry wished he had thought to put on the cloak back in their room.

“Theo,” Harry started. “We have to go. We know, or think we know, where the Chamber is. We’re going to find Ginny.” Theo nodded slowly, but didn’t move. “Look, I swear I’m not the Heir-”

“I know.” Harry then looked for the explanation of the delay. “If you were the Heir, you would have gotten smart quicker,” Nott provided. “And you would never have sent the monster after a Weasley. I’m on your side, but you have to know this stuff is dark. Blacklisted, locked up dark. You can’t let anyone know about what you find in the Chamber.”

“Either way, you’d be on my side?” Harry asked, incredulous.

 Nott’s eyes darkened and he shrugged. “Like the whole school and probably the whole of Wizarding Britain knows by now, my family’s not Light. I don’t think you’d kill people. That doesn’t mean you aren’t the Heir.” It was a little cryptic.

“Right, well, if you’re not going to stop us,” Draco pushed past, or tried to. Theo barely moved. Malfoy pulled his wand, but Theo did not.

“I won’t. First, though. Harry, what did you do with the diary? The one from Christmas.”

“Lost it,” Harry gritted. “Really, Theo, we’ve got to go before Snape comes. The school’s going to go into lockdown.”

“If you get the chance, you should destroy it.” Theo finally got Harry to pause and really listen to him.

“Why.”

“You know why. That thing, what’s in there, it’s nothing anyone should touch.”

“You think this thing, whatever it is, in Harry’s notebook, has something to do with the Chamber?” Draco asked.

“Yes. And Harry knows it does, too.” Nott stared at Harry levelly, encouraging him to answer.

“It’s just a memory,” Harry muttered, nearly pleaded. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re not stupid,” Nott snarled, “don’t pretend to be.”

“I got it. Fine. I admit that it’s probably not the lightest magic, but he’s a person. I can’t just kill someone, living in a book or not!”

“It’s a mercy,” Theo shot back. “But I won’t tell you what to do. Like I said, I’m behind you. But now you know, if you didn’t before. That thing would get you expelled, or killed, Boy-Who-Lived or not. And I’m betting it’s behind this.” He stepped aside, and Draco started forward impatiently.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Harry promised.

“I hope we do.”

\--

Malfoy’s frustrated breaths shifted the fabric of the cloak in front of his face. “Unconditional loyalty,” he growled. “Not exactly a phrase commonly associated with Notts.”

“Do you not believe him,” Harry whispered back, “Or did he just surprise you?”

“The second.” Malfoy shook his head. “I’m one hundred percent certain he was serious.”

They saw Ron and Hermione hovering outside the bathroom itself, backs to the door.

Harry spared a moment to be surprised, then laughed a little at the reflex. Of course Hermione worked it out somehow. He had, after all, even with a little help. He should wonder how they got out of the dorms without being seen.

“I can’t believe he was going to try and leave me out of my sister’s rescue,” Ron seemed to be repeating, as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He thought you would be with your brothers, like you really should be.”

“I would be, if they weren’t all being blubbery. They think there’s no hope, and it’ll be worse when Mum gets here. I can’t just sit in that office and listen to that after you told me I could do something.”

“I just wanted you to know, in case- Harry Potter, show yourself this second!” She yelled in a whisper.

Harry pulled off the cloak. “How did you know I was there?”

“Heard your footsteps,” she muttered, already through the door and examining the bathroom for signs of snake activity. Harry took a moment to stuff the cloak in his bag.

“Tried it three times before you got here,” Ron muttered. Hermione cleared her throat and didn’t answer. “Why the girls’ bathroom… I’m not supposed to be in here!”

Hermione adopted her no-nonsense tone, the slightly shaky terrified one. “Ronald, we’re going to find Slytherin’s hidden chamber, to save your sister, all expressly against Dumbledore’s orders. I think maybe they would overlook you being in the girls’ lavatory.” Hermione wasted no time in opening each stall door. “I just don’t understand why you think it’s in here. Or why Myrtle was the one killed.”

“Call it a hunch,” Harry replied grimly. “We know it was 50 years ago, and her timeline matches up.”

Ron slowly started to follow Hermione’s lead, opening each stall door like something terrible would jump out at him. “Hermione said you’d have a plan.”

“He doesn’t,” Malfoy replied scathingly.

“You don’t?” Hermione’s eyes looked ready to pop right out of her head, pausing her search.

“Well, if there was a plan,” he started, but was interrupted.

Harry had, of course, heard about Myrtle before. Pansy delighted in bemoaning the state of the school bathrooms, or even that public bathrooms existed, but she especially delighted in ranting about Myrtle’s particular corner. Even her stories about Myrtle’s legendary nosiness and general aggravating nature could not have prepared Harry for the real thing.

“HARRY POTTER!” A shrill voice rang, quickly followed by a silvery ghost swooping, amusingly enough, from the stall Ron was just about to open. His shriek had nothing on hers, though. “You’ve come back,” she said, now saccharine sweet, twirling one limp pigtail with her fingers. “It’s been forever, I thought you would never come back to visit.”

“I’ve been here before?” He asked incredulously, which was definitely the wrong thing to say. Her eyes began to fill with silvery tears, then overflowed with her bawling, disappearing before they hit the floor far below.

“YOU DON’T EVEN REMEMBER!” She wailed.

Draco waited for a pause in the gasps to blurt out, “And he’s very sorry about it!” Which at least slowed the tears to sniffles.

“Is he? He never even spared time for me before, and now he’s saying these mean things…”

“I was wrong to do that, Myrtle, of course,” Harry said quickly, and when this looked to make her start again followed up with, “I was a bit cursed at the time, I think, I don’t remember much of anything!”

“Ooh,” she shivered with intrigue. “Cursed, hmm?”

“I was hoping, since this is _your_ bathroom and all, you could tell me what I was doing here?” Hermione’s eyes lit up at the new plan.

“Well, I suppose…” She was casting about as if for something on the ground. “Blast, I was trying to think of something I could ask for in return, but I have nothing. Maybe give me a few nights to think about it…” she began to sink toward the floor, and then to Harry’s horror, sink through it.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Hermione called out, even going so far as to look in her pockets. What would a bathroom ghost want with a couple of quills and a few toothpicks?

“Wait, wait, what about a…” Ron scrabbled. “A wireless?”

Myrtle’s progression paused. “A what?”

Hermione clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s brilliant, yes! A radio, you know, to listen to shows and things,”

“It’s got really sad music on there too,” Draco added less than helpfully, but Myrtle seemed to go for it.

“You can get me one of these?” She asked doubtfully, then came to a decision. “Alright. I’ll tell you. It’s not all that much, you just walked around. Stood a bit. Until I left, usually. You were awfully boring. But…”

“Is there something you want to tell us?” Draco prodded. Her ghostly body seemed to shiver in delight.

“Well, when I died, the same thing was happening with all the petrification, did you know that?” She didn’t seem to need an answer. “And the night I died, something with big yellow eyes,”

"The basilisk,” Hermione whispered, like they needed the reminder.

“I was telling a story!” Myrtle wailed until they refocused on her. “Like I was saying, I just saw it, and then I shuffled off my mortal coil.” She nodded matter-of-factly. “And it was over there, where you liked to stand.” She gestured to the middle of the room, where a column of sinks bisected the lavatory. Harry stepped over.

He expected to feel déjà vu or something, given he was supposed to have been here, but there was nothing. He shrugged to the general area.

“Isn’t there anything else you could tell us?” Hermione asked, frustrated.

“NO! Bring me my music thing, if you live long enough!” Myrtle giggled maliciously and dove through the floor.

“Not my favorite ghost,” Ron admitted with a sigh. “See anything, Harry?”

“I don’t remember ever being here.” Still, his feet led him around the sinks until he stopped arbitrarily. There was almost something… he reached out to turn on the sink, but his fingers brushed the tap. “It’s here,” he said, suddenly sure. “The entrance is here.”

Hermione hurried over, followed by Ron and Draco. “What makes you so… oh, alright. Do some Parseltongue, then.”

He hesitated. It was a little much, to perform on command, and he knew it still creeped them out.

 

“Speaking of Parseltongue, why didn’t you bring the snake?” Ron asked. Hermione looked at him strangely, then realized what he was trying to say. Harry was glad for the distraction as he psyched himself up, looking at the little snake engraved on the tap. It wasn’t even really engraved, more scratched, like someone took a pocketknife to it.

“You mean, to communicate with the basilisk?” Hermione tilted her head.

“Er, I suppose. But it seemed pretty basic to me- going to Slytherin’s ancient chamber, to see a big snake, rescue my sister, why not bring the only snake we know?”

Harry quieted the discussion with a hand. “He wasn’t in the room.”

“Well, where is he then?”

Harry shrugged. “He’s my familiar, not my pet. I don’t keep him in a tank, and I’m not going to ask him to keep me updated when he wants to go for a… slither. Walk. I’m ready to go, if you guys are.”

“ _Open,”_ he told the little snake, and swore it glinted its little scratched eye at him. Slowly, so slowly, the sinks screeched apart.

“Blimey.” Ron scratched the back of his neck. “After you, mate.”

\--

Draco thumped down the disgusting pipe last, and somehow managed to land on his feet. “Oh, don’t look now. We’re knee deep in rat droppings.”

Harry cast _Lumos._ His voice wavered, but the light came. “Actually,” He said, squinting through his smudged glasses at the ground, “They’re little skeletons. But you might’ve got the rat part correct.”

“I could’ve just taken the easy route and been your nemesis, but no. We had to be friends.”

“I have a pre-existing nemesis. Also, we’re twelve. You would have been a dramatic rival at best.” The banter was grounding, if on autopilot.

“I’m still a dramatic rival.” Draco sniffed.

“The most,” Harry said, placating him. “This way,” he pointed with his wand. The little bones crunched under his feet as he took a step. The sound made him shake. Please, he begged. Please don’t let them be too late. Ginny’s bones would be larger than these, the crying girl on Valentine ’s Day. Ron’s only sister. The brave Gryffindor who couldn’t wait a year to be let through the doors to Hogwarts. They had to be in time.

\--

Meanwhile in the Snape’s office, he was scraping across his desk, looking for a single thing. Snape had taken to idling his office hours away reading through the secret library, since students hardly came to them. Between blackmail and dark mutterings, he had found a slip of a book, more a pamphlet. It didn’t seem to belong. It was a student’s notes on the newfangled plumbing going in, so 18th century. He mentioned some strange things about pipes and plumbing and diverting water, but he was hardly coherent. Corvinus Gaunt seemed to be no genius. The little booklet had been taunting Snape with its secret for weeks, and he might finally have the last piece.

 

Snape stormed into the bathroom only to see the sink rising from the ground, fusing together. He followed the closing seam to a certain sink and saw the carving. On a hunch, he raised his ring to the tap. The little snake shimmered silver, and the closing process reversed; this was the Chamber of Secrets. The maw gaped before him. He cursed up a storm, drew his wand, blasted a message Patronus to Dumbledore, and set off after his students.

\--

 

The four of them had barely advanced halfway down what looked like a very long pipeline before they came upon a curled heap. It was the basilisk’s skin. It was just as huge as Harry had estimated in the darkness of the school dungeons, but something about it all curled in white before them was startling. “How big is this thing,” Ron gulped.

They were interrupted by footsteps hurrying from behind them, in the tunnel. Harry quickly cast Nox, as did Hermione, and they huddled to one side. As their eyes adjusted, Hermione mouthed, ‘Heir?’ Draco shrugged, pressing further back until slime must have been getting down the back of his robes. Harry rummaged for his cloak in his satchel, but was not fast enough.

“Professor?” Hermione breathed incredulously.

“Students! Four of you! I barely came in when Mr. Malfoy here was jumping down, nearly lost you. And that would have been a tragedy, indeed! Why, we might have had five dead, and not just one.”

“Professor, we have to, my sister’s down there…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Mr. Weasley, I really do, and unfortunately none of you will be finding out. In fact, I think you will be rather confused as to the occurrences of this night. Now if you’ll just stand still,” he murmured, and flashed a signature smile. He raised and readied his wand, pointing directly at Draco.

 

“I am the Heir to the Malfoy line, and I will not be Obliviated!” Perhaps the vision of a child stubbornly refusing to be spelled, hands on his hips, made Lockhart hesitate. Maybe he was thinking of the consequences. Maybe he just had a twitch. Whatever made him lower his wand that fraction of a degree, Ron took advantage of it by straight punching him in the face. Lockhart, just as he seemed, was a weakling, and he went down hard, hitting his head on the curved side of the corridor.

“Oh my god, I’ve killed him,” Ron moaned. “I killed a teacher, I’ll be sent to Azkaban.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley, you were defending me. Also, he’s just knocked out. Not dead. Now let’s keep going. If the thing is as big as that snakeskin, we’re about to die and I’d hate to miss that.” He was obviously sarcastic, but he didn’t make straight back down the pipeline so Harry figured he was in.

“Wait, we can’t just leave a Hogwarts teacher here!”

“Hermione, my sister’s in there. I have to go, now.”

“Well, I’ll go back up, and take him, and find a teacher that actually knows what they’re doing. They need to know that we’ve found the Chamber.”

Harry shook his head. “You can’t climb straight up that pipe.”

“Right. Um…”

“There has to be another way out. But that means we go forward.” Harry tried to sound as gentle as he could, because they were obviously terrified, but Harry couldn’t summon up the same feeling. He felt drawn to the chamber. He had to keep going.

“I’ll just…” She conjured a little floating light that stuck itself to the wall right over Lockhart’s head. “Don’t want to lose him,” she explained, even as Harry set off down the hall. He stayed ahead of them for the long minutes it took to reach the bit of light at the end of the pipeline.

Therefore, Harry was the first into the atrium of the Chamber of Secrets. Ron had just a moment to see Ginny’s vibrant head of hair curled out over the floor before said floor began to shake. “Ginny!” He called out.

“Tom,” Harry whispered in horror. And then the roof caved in.

\--

Severus Snape did not care about Gilderoy Lockhart. Therefore, it was a matter of minutes to levitate him up and out of the entrance to the Chamber, leaving him in a puddle on the floor of the girl’s bathroom. It cost Snape just enough time to see the edge of a massive collapse shower down on the students. He cast a quick shield and tugged them out of the way. One, two, three… but no Harry Potter.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione wavered, no doubt thinking of how much trouble they would be in.

“Harry’s in there,” Draco cut to the chase. “With Ginny Weasley, but she was lying on the ground. There was someone else…” he trailed off, looking at the other two.

“Who else?” Snape stared intently. He raised his arm to begin excavating the rubble.

“I don’t know, sir,” Weasley grunted, for once polite. “But Harry called him Tom.”

“How could someone from fifty years ago get back into the school, let alone into the Chamber?” Hermione frowned.

“You know who he speaks of?” Snape pinned her with his gaze, switching between the children.

“Tom Riddle.” And Snape lowered his wand, while the two pureblood students turned to look at her.

“Bloody hell,” Draco whispered. Ron nodded vehemently, and Snape couldn’t bring himself to frown at the cursing. If any moment called for it, Harry Potter trapped with a basilisk and the young Dark Lord did.

\--

Tom looked just as he had in his memories. The same hair, aristocratic nose, brown eyes. But his mannerisms were totally different. In all the memories Harry had seen, he didn’t have that hunger, the clawing anger Harry saw now. It was in every motion he made, from the flick of his wand- Ginny’s wand- that brought down the ceiling to the way his eyes slowly slid to Harry.

“Harry,” Tom drawled. “I did expect you to join us. It would feel incomplete, I think, if you failed to show.”

Harry’s gaze flicked from him to Ginny and back. The diary was lying near her, like she had fallen with it in her hands.

“Oh, her? She’s dead.” Tom smiled, slick as oil. Harry very nearly believed him.

But at least Harry could read his face this much. The edges of Tom’s body flickered in the low firelight. “You’re lying.”

Tom inclined his head and gentled his smile, like he was awarding Harry a point. “Yes. She’s still alive, if only just.

“What are you doing here, Tom? How are you here?”

“The girl led me,” Tom responded, like it was part of easy coursework. Matter-of-fact. Next question.

“Is… she the Heir?” But she couldn’t be, because Harry-

“No, Harry. I’m the Heir.”

 

“I could have made this simple, you know,” Tom sneered. “I could stand here and tell you that I never wanted to use you. That I fought with myself over it. But I didn’t. You were precisely what I needed, when I needed it, and I didn’t hesitate for a moment to worm into your good graces. You made it so, so easy. You practically begged me to drain you, fed me your memories… acknowledged a debt to me.

If I had just managed not to feel guilt- and believe me, I never had an issue with that in my life- I would have you hand over the girl right here. But I deceived you. Forced you to show me parts of your childhood that I, unfortunately, commiserated with. And the debt was counted even.”

“Then that filthy girl’s hands picked me up. After your Quidditch practice. The big one, before the Weasley.

 “She stole me, put me in her bag, and never even opened a page. You know how lucky I was that this one picked me up? That the basilisk was already out and roaming? That the three of them met there that night, and the redhead didn’t die?” His hands curled. “I despise relying on fate.

“But it worked out as you see. This child, she shows up, telling me all about you, my Reader. You know, influencing you was strangely effortless. The more we talked, the more I revealed, the more you trusted me. By the end I could have told you to walk off the edge of the Astronomy tower, and you would.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Harry was desperately thinking of a way to stop Tom, and getting nowhere. As he stalled he could see Ginny fading.

Tom paced the floor in front of him. “I needed you. Your intriguing malleability, your miraculous ability to speak Parseltongue. But see, you had the worst habit of only talking about me. Normally, I’d find this quite charming. In this case, it meant you _didn’t see fit to mention_ you’d killed Voldemort.

And the girl, she was worse. Oh, she told me all about you. Harry Potter. At least I knew it was you, Reader. Your hair, your eyes, your supposed skill in classes, your smile, your laugh. I heard enough about you to choke on it. Somehow it never crossed her _pitiful_ mind to tell me you were the one to defeat the Dark Lord. At least, not until today.”

“Why does it matter,” Harry spit, “If I did something I don’t remember as a baby? You’re killing her. Let her go, come back to the book, I’ll keep you safe this time,”

“It _matters_!” Tom screamed in his face, suddenly close, “Because you” he raised Ginny’s wand to point at him, “killed me!” Harry wasn’t purposefully thick, but some things did not want to be thought.

“I’ve been looking for you this whole time,” Harry muttered weakly in protest, and looked down at Ginny. She was… paler. He knelt next to her, felt for the pulse in her wrist. Weak. “Tom, please let her go. I don’t know what this is about, you’re fine! But I have to save her.”

“Of course you do,” Tom mocked. “Save the little Weasley girl, so enamored with the Boy-Who-Lived. She stole me from you, Harry. She kept us apart. She knew I belonged to you when she picked me up off that Slytherin girl’s petrified body. All she wanted was to know if you had written about her… then she met me. And she wanted to know all your secrets. All we’d done together to make this school a better place.”

“All… all we did? So you…” Harry stood, stepped back.

“You wanted to, Harry. Just a little, you wanted Slytherin to be powerful again, respected again, intelligence and cunning valued as it should be. And that desire was just enough, just one handhold I needed to convince a part of you…” He advanced, and Harry retreated.

“I wrote that warning on the walls… I did. I was exactly what they feared I was, I froze Filch’s cat- I made the basilisk come out of hibernation.” Harry looked at his own hands in horror.

“Yes, Harry.”

“You made me do it!”

“Of course I did!” Tom roared, then whirled away in disgust, twitching the wand to reveal an achingly familiar scrawl, which rearranged itself.

“An anagram.” Harry sighed, stunned. “You can’t be, it’s… of course he’s the Heir of Slytherin, I mean, of course you are. And those memories you showed me, all lies,”

“Not lies,” Tom clarified.

“Not the truth!”

“Why would I tell a stranger the truth? Tom Marvolo Riddle. Last of the Gaunt line. Son of a weak mother and a muggle father, raised an orphan.” He paced the room, side to side, back and forth, Ginny the barrier between them. Harry stood still until Tom stopped. “The esteemed Lord Voldemort.” Tom smirked. “You must understand, Harry. All of this would have been so much more difficult with the little girl. She doesn’t have the connection we have. She could never understand like you. Slytherins, Parselmouths, orphans both-” Riddle stepped forward again, putting himself between Harry and the unconscious Ginny. Harry raised his wand, but Tom took it with just a wave of Ginny’s.

“No, it- it’s your fault I’m an orphan in the first place!”

Tom shrugged, tucking Ginny’s wand in a pocket and holding Harry’s to the sad excuse for illumination the torches gave. “I can’t recall that. I’m a memory, after all, Voldemort at seventeen. I’m not quite the monster you think you know, Harry.”

“But you’re every bit a monster, still.”

“I am a wizard!” An angry Tom Riddle was still something to behold in spirit form. Darkness seemed to draw around him as he raised Harry’s wand, but he calmed just as quickly as he was enraged. He lowered the wand again. “I have vision. I have a future. I am Voldemort’s future, a return to ideals, a strengthening of the bonds between us and magic. I am the Heir of Slytherin.”

“You killed Myrtle- you, you froze yourself somehow, in a book! That isn’t human, Tom, not anymore!”

“Not just human, but more! Immortal. You were supposed to understand!” Riddle thundered. “I showed you- you showed me your cupboard, your snakes, I showed you my past!”

“You lied to me, tried to turn me against Hagrid-“

“You’re a Slytherin! I showed you how to get here, how to keep Dumbledore off your back!”

“Maybe I need Professor Dumbledore, Tom, to keep me from turning into you.” Tom shook with anger, but the wand stayed by his side.

“I am the most powerful wizard Hogwarts has turned out in an age,” Tom steamed, “and you would be lucky to be half of what I am.”

“I’m not talking about power, Tom. I’m talking about humanity. Good. Helping people.”

“What did that get you with the Dursleys, Harry? Did they love you? Help you in return?”

“Don’t use that against me. Don’t,” he warned.

“I’ll use what I please! I’ll say what I want, and go where I want, and kill who I want!”

“Like Ginny? Me?”

“No, not you. I didn’t wish to kill her, really. She’s pureblood, she was just so _infatuated_ with you, so weak… she’s the fastest way to be alive again. I am not unreasonable, Harry.” Harry didn’t know how he had ever heard Tom’s voice as earnest. “I may need this girl’s life force to regain my own, but after that, we can talk. I can show you why what I will do, what Voldemort has done, is necessary.” _Necessary._

“Just let her go.”

“Or what?” Harry really had no ideas, but he didn’t want to say as much.

“I’ll get Dumbledore. He’ll kill you, you know he will.” Tom gritted his teeth, turning away like Harry had slapped him.

“Calling on the old fool, again, boy. Of course you are, running to your father figure to kill big bad Tom Riddle. That pompous excuse for a teacher! That annoying- and still you side with him!

“This school was my only home and he kept it from me!” Tom’s shoulders shook, still barely translucent. “I am the Heir of Slytherin! These halls are mine, every brick in this chamber belongs to me! And that crazy old man thought, instead, that muggleborns should tread all over this school, not knowing what it means. I was sixteen, Harry Potter, and Dumbledore had looked at me like an enemy for five years. He favored the weak, the stupid, the reckless, over Slytherin’s own. He wanted fragile, impressionable Muggles to lead us!

“And precious Harry Potter, who defeated the Dark Lord… still Dumbledore’s golden boy. A prime example of how they aren’t… all... bad.” Tom trailed off sarcastically. “I shouldn’t have sought to make an ally of you. A slight miscalculation, that’s all. Swiftly… rectified.” Tom turned, and called for the basilisk.

\--

Hermione was slow to come around to the fact that the same Tom Riddle she had looked up became Lord Voldemort. The job was left to Ron and Draco, with Professor Snape levitating rock by rock out of the way.

“And nobody put a side note by the book, like for your information this is the one that turned into the Dark Lord, most likely to be obsessed with killing, probably left behind a dark artifact in the school that your friends will pick up and die from,”

“Calm down, Hermione, we’re getting in there,” Ron attempted.

“And then what? Just waltzing up and saying ‘excuse me, could you stop coming back, nobody wants you,’”

Draco snorted hysterically, eyes still wide. “That’s one plan.”

“Silence,” Snape droned ineffectually, all his concentration on the cave-in.

“I can’t just stand here.” Hermione observed Snape for a moment, then rolled up her sleeves and readied her wand. Snape looked at her for a moment with what might have been respect.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa”_ she incanted, levitating rock by rock out of the way, starting at the top as the Professor did. It wasn’t as fast as Snape’s banishment, but it was safe. Ron and Draco joined her, and soon enough they would be through. She just hoped Harry could keep safe until then.

\--

Harry turned to the hall behind him, but it was blocked. There was nowhere to run, no long corridor. He turned again, watching the hatch fall open and a dark shape stir inside. “ _Kill.”_

_Kill… cold. Feed. Kill._

“These actions don’t make you a Dark Lord, Tom Riddle!” Harry shouted and he turned his back and began to walk. “Using a basilisk, you’re a bully to a twelve-year old child and a school of teenagers. Obsessed with a purity that results in inbreeding and lost knowledge!” He began to run as the shadow of the basilisk interrupted the braziers’ light. He didn’t have a plan, but not getting eaten or petrified sounded good. “Kill me with it, and you’ll never get rid of my memory! And the memory of being a scared, trapped teenager in a book!”

“Fine!” Tom snarled after him, and Harry nearly thought he would call off the basilisk. “I’ll kill you by my own hands, when I have them. Not long now,” he gloated. “ _Chase him!”_

_Chase. Tear, kill. Feed._

_“Do not feed,”_ Harry called back “ _No feeding! He said chase, no killing!”_ He felt a bit like he was trying to reason with a child.

_Hungry. Cold._

_“I can come back later and fix all those things, but not if I’m dead!”_ If he weren’t running in a huge circle around a square room with no escape, he might have amused himself with the idea of house-elves finding huge mice for a huge snake. As it was, he just ran.

“Tick tock, Mr. Potter, your damsel in distress is dying! Better think something up or she’s gone forever,” Tom grinned maliciously.

“ _Stop!”_ Harry commanded, and she paused. He gained a couple feet of distance back.

_“Attack him!”_ And the basilisk surged forward. “ _I am the Heir of Slytherin! I am your master!”_

_“Don’t you want to be warm, don’t you want to be full, sleepy, mice, safe,”_ Harry panted. The basilisk roared, so maybe he was just pissing it off. He needed a better plan. So he curved right towards Tom, like he would run into him.

“ _Avoid the girl,”_ Tom cried almost lazily. “ _I still need her.”_ So she wasn’t totally drained yet. Strong kid.

Harry didn’t change course, even when Tom sidestepped out of the way. Harry was in the middle of the room now, nearly there, nearly.

When he passed, he bent and scooped up the diary, sitting waterlogged and discarded on the floor. He tucked it into the curve of his arm and picked up the pace.

“I don’t need that thing anymore, Harry. You’re wasting your time.”

But this was Tom’s home, this was where Harry met him, this was him. If he could find a way to threaten that…

“ _Bite!”_

Harry’s not quick enough. He can’t counteract Tom’s command with his own. The basilisk stuck down, and even as he screamed out “ _Stop!”_ Her fangs ripped through his leg, one side near grinding against the floor. Then he just screamed. She reared back, actually snapping one fang in his leg. Harry shuddered. It was bleeding so much, burning. He kept feeling the snap of her tooth breaking, the gush of blood. The basilisk crooned in distress, ordered by two masters.

He turned his eyes to Tom, who had not yet given the command to kill him. Perhaps he didn’t expect Harry to fail. His eyes darted away from the blood, a sentimentalism Tom himself would have called weakness. But the red stain followed his gaze, filtering through the pools of water, lapping toward his feet in the wake of the basilisk.

“ _Enough! Go to sleep,”_ Tom commanded eventually, after what felt like hours, Harry panting into the silence. She obeyed. She slithered back into the alcove she came from, cramped and dark and cold. Harry was surprised Tom couldn’t relate. “Harry, you should have known you couldn’t stand against the Heir. I am her true master. If only you had agreed to join me.” A voice from the tunnel snapped Harry’s head to the side. Rocks were falling from the barricade, like they were tunneling from the other side… he couldn’t let them see. Tom would kill them.

He fumbled down his leg to the part that was numb and burning and bleeding. He grit his teeth, then pulled. The fang didn’t come out. Tom was walking closer, eyes on him, exultant. He tried again, and this time he managed to pull out the fang. A fresh surge of his blood spread over the floor, touching Tom’s shoes.

Tom furrowed his brows in a mockery of concern. “Did you think I wouldn’t make your death swift, Harry Potter? Aching to die so quickly?”

“My friends are coming,” he shivered, and traced Tom’s eyes to the hall’s entrance.

“Oh, but too late for you, I think. Maybe if you had left that in- but no.” His eyes glittered. “Did you know there’s no cure for basilisk venom?”

“Yes.” Harry grunted. “I know.” He retrieved the book from under his arm. “But you told me, just a few seconds ago, that Ginny’s alive. That means,” he brandished the book weakly, “you’re still in here.”

“Are you sure?” Tom smiled, but looked cautious.

“No. But I’m sure I don’t have another option, Tom. Go back in the diary.” He held the fang in his hand like a dagger, raised over the book.

Tom stepped towards him, eyes on the fang.

“I mean it. Let Ginny go and get back in the diary or I will kill you. I’ll have to,” he pleaded, the rocks falling faster behind them. Tom’s eyes turned in that direction as well. His eyes burned furiously, and he brandished Harry’s wand. He wasn’t all that sure it would work, but he scratched the cover of the book. He did it lightly, purposefully, and it created a seam of light in the center of Tom’s body. Tom clutched at it with a hiss, and lowered the wand. “Do you really think I won’t?”

“No, Harry, I really think you would.” Torn between self-preservation and the inability to recognize a loss, the memory of Tom Riddle stood still. The rocks kept coming out of the barricade. Harry’s vision swam, but he focused enough to see Tom creeping slowly towards him. He carved more deliberately down the book’s face, eliciting a painful groan. Tom hunched over, holding his stomach, hate in his eyes. “You like this. Someone at your mercy.”

“No. I’m not like you.” He paused. “At least not like that. This is your last warning.” The fight seemed to go out of Tom.

“I know when I’m beat,” he said, straightening. Not bloody likely, Harry thought. “You’ll need to help. I need to be touching both the book and the girl.

“I’m keeping hold of the book,” Harry warned. “And the basilisk fang.”

“Of course you are,” Tom muttered. Harry tried to stand, to walk over to Ginny, but his legs buckled. He could hear Hermione’s shrill voice calling through the rock, and it was only a matter of seconds before they could see. Harry began to drag himself over. Too slow. He crawled, then Tom’s hand was under his wrist, the side with the book. Harry’s eyes flared open- when had they shut? But Tom just led him to Ginny and threw him to the floor beside her. He crouched, still saving the knees of his incorporeal uniform from the wet of the Chamber.

“I’ll find a way to come back,” Tom threatened, even as he set his hand on a blank page and Ginny’s wrist.

“You were my friend, Tom. I think I was yours too. So I can be completely honest when I say that I hope you do.” He grinned, strength waning. “And I’ll do my best to be here to stop you again when you manage it.” And then Tom was gone, just Ginny and a slim black book left. Ginny was stirring, and Harry heard the clatter of falling rock, and he barely had time to throw the book to a relatively dry corner before the sound of pounding footsteps in water approached.

\--

Professor Snape led the little troop of children, and Draco followed in the rear. Snape had protested letting the students follow at all, but something about the mulish look on Ron Weasley’s face had convinced him they would not be swayed. He had a long list of provisions that were summarily forgotten, and they ran in to see what had happened to the young Potter.

The boy was barely conscious, muttering nonsense, delirious with fever. Also probably blood loss. Was that a _basilisk fang_ in his hand? Where was the beast itself?

“Ron?” a small voice murmured.

“Ginny! You’re alright!”

“I don’t remember… Harry!”

“Ginny,” Harry’s eyes opened, focused, but his speech was slurred. “You need to leave, oh! Professor. I’m dying,” he offered matter-of-factly.

Hermione gasped “basilisk venom,” and Ron hugged his sister close. Ginny began to cry.

“I’ve called for someone,” Snape spat out, “that can help with that. Best we get you as far as we can.”

“That’s so nice, professor,” and he passed out.

“ _Levicorpus,”_ Snape cast, bringing Harry’s body with them out the rubble into the long pipeline.

“How long does he have?” Draco asked, hurrying along behind Snape.

“Minutes,” the Professor replied grimly.

“And how far away is the person you called?”

“Minutes. Now do shut up, Mr. Malfoy. And walk faster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Almost done with this one.   
> Just a little advice for those of you who drive: mind your left turns. I got into a bad wreck a couple of weeks ago and then last week someone I work with did the same thing! All it takes is someone coming down the far lane a bit faster than the speed limit and your car is totaled. Everybody drive safe!   
> Now, back to reading fics. I know, I like it better too.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry woke slowly. Professor Snape was there, which made sense. His limp hair was crowned with a fuzzy halo, which did not make sense. Harry flopped his head in the other direction. Nobody on that side but a white curtain. He flopped back to see Snape’s beady black eyes staring back at him. The fiery halo moved. And squawked.

“Hello again, Fawkes,” Harry smiled. He was still woozy, but aware enough to realize he was no longer dying. Snape’s fiery friend let out a squawk and took wing. “Bye again, Fawkes.”

Snape presented his hand palm up, and Harry thought for a strange moment he wanted to shake. But he was holding out the ring. “Do you know what this is, Mr. Potter?”

“I gave it to you,” Harry replied, squinting. “Did Fawkes fix me?”

“Yes. Phoenix tears-“

“Healing powers,” he interrupted, then tucked his head down. “Hermione told us.”

“Quite.” He tucked the ring away, saving that long conversation for later. “Do I need to express how disgusted I am that you made your way to the Chamber of Secrets without alerting a competent adult?”

“No. But it was my fault,” Harry started, though Snape talked over him.

“And you could not entertain the idea that your elders might have a plan to rescue Miss Weasley?” Harry didn’t reply. “Theodore Nott has already expressed a desire to testify that it was no fault of yours, but a dark artifact that was influencing you. Is this true?”

“I should have known better,”

“Yes you should have!” Snape thundered, but relented. “If you’re awake enough to realize that, we have somewhere to be.”

“How long has it been?” Harry asked when he pulled his legs out of the covers and realized he was still in the same uniform. The crowd of curtains around them also hinted that the petrified had not yet been awakened.

“About an hour. The Headmaster has just returned, and as such all of your little friends can present their version of events at the same time.”

In fact, everyone but Hermione was waiting outside the doors to the hospital wing once Madam Pomfrey let him go with a stern look in Snape’s direction. “Steady, mate,” Ron caught him when he stumbled.

“I guess I’m still a bit out of sorts,” Harry frowned.

“A full dose of basilisk venom will do that to you,” Snape sniped, “No matter the healing power. Your organs were shutting down, Mr. Potter, and you need to rest. There may yet be lingering damage. But as the Headmaster insisted.” It sounded final, so off they went.

 

 

 

On the way, Draco explained what he had found out. He talked very quickly and quietly, their footsteps hardly a pace behind Snape’s. Harry tried not to register just how little the sound had changed with Ginny’s wrist pulsing faintly against his fingers. Merlin, he almost let her die.

“It was always Father’s plan to get rid of the diary, but not with you. My family has a house-elf, Dobby. He says he came to you before the school year, to warn you away. When Dobby came back, Father caught him and forced him to tell. Then…” Draco swallowed and pulled Harry’s arm a little closer. “Father sent Dobby to erase your memory, when we got on the train. Dobby took your memory of his warning, but also of an altercation between you and my father in Diagon Alley. That’s when Father slipped the diary into your things. I don’t know if he knew exactly what would happen, but he had a guess. He didn’t know what that diary was, only that it was potent dark magic. Not only that, but he’s sent Dobby back since. I don’t know how. But every once in a while you’d forget everything I said about Father.” Harry nodded.

“I understand.”

“And?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Are you going to tell Dumbledore?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Draco. Your father did it, not you. And you said yourself he may not have known the extent of the diary’s power. I’d much rather have your father afraid of what you can bring down upon him than miserable and angry at you. But, he can never know you told me. Get it?”

“So you’re not mad?” Malfoy asked incredulously.

“Of course I am. But not at you.” He squeezed Malfoy’s supporting arm reassuringly, then let go. He was a bit surer on his feet now, though still wobbly. It wouldn’t do to show weakness.

“Though, I’m a bit bowled over by the fact your father just went and gave the diary to Voldemort’s mortal enemy. How was that a good idea?

“I believe you infuriate him,” Draco mused.

“Well, feeling’s mutual.” Tucking his arms close to his body, Harry leaned on Draco’s arm a little more and took pressure off of his leg. How far was it from the Hospital Wing to Dumbledore’s office, again?

\--

Just before they headed into the room, Snape gestured Malfoy ahead and kept Harry back.

“Potter. Are you alright?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “Are you prepared for this? Albus Dumbledore will dig. And I am not assured that right now, you could withstand it.”

“I’m flattered by the concern, Professor, but I’m fine, all things considered.”

“I know that I have been... difficult. These past months.” Snape was ready to choke on his own tongue, apologizing to Harry Potter. “But I will, above all else, protect you. Do you understand?” Harry nodded slowly. “So when I say that the Headmaster will suffer no secrets, you catch my meaning.” He nodded again. Could Snape really be warning him about the events in the chamber? “Very well. If you are determined to face him before rest, we had better not keep him waiting. Also, Mr. Malfoy’s parents, the Weasley brood, and Lockhart, that fool. At least Miss Granger had a bare minimum amount of sense to beg exhaustion.”

Harry closed his eyes and desperately swallowed down his nausea. “Too late to reschedule. Right?”

“No.” Snape grumbled. But he opened the door all the same.

The initial din, while muted while the two stood outside, was enough to ruffle Harry’s hair. Dumbledore simply raised a hand to quiet it, then showed Harry to the last spindly seat unoccupied by Weasley or Malfoy. From what Harry could see, the patriarchs of each family seemed near a fistfight. Or a duel, either one. Lucius, seeing Harry come in, adjusted his glare to him.

“This this him, then? He set a basilisk on my son?”

“Father, no,”

“Be silent, Draco.” But his wife, a stately woman with a rather pinchy example of the pureblood scowl, set one hand on his shoulder. It reeled him back as surely as a fish. Behind him, Harry could see two very round, very familiar eyes.

“Professor Dumbledore. You have to know, it wasn’t him. It… I’m not sure, exactly, what it was. There was a basilisk, and something controlling it.”

“A diary,” Ginny piped up from a squashy armchair. She was sharing the seat with her mother, who had wrapped her arms around Ginny blanket and all. Her father stood behind them, while Ron wrung his hands in another chair. She looked to Harry quickly, then back to Dumbledore. “I think it must have been cursed. I was so… exhausted all the time. I would black out.”

“And I had it before her. Draco had said I was sleepwalking and forgetting things, I just thought it must have been something else,” he looked directly into Lucius Malfoy’s eyes.

“Understandable,” Dumbledore said gently. “Do you have this diary now?”

In another world, Harry Potter hands over the diary. It’s ruined and empty, and the old man taps it, calls it useless. In that world, Harry Potter moves on from the glimpse of a boy not very different from himself.

But it didn’t shake out like that.

Instead, Harry did some quick thinking. “I left it, sir. In the Chamber. I don’t think it can do much damage from there.” True. “Whatever was cast on it, I don’t think it would work the same way again.” True. Tom would never be sloppy enough to repeat a failed plan.

“Hmm. Miss Weasley, would you agree? I must determine there is no further threat to the students, you understand. Once I have figured out the events of tonight, you will be free to go with your parents.”

“I think so. By the time I woke, Professor Snape was there. I saw Harry throw the diary away from us in the water. Then we walked out.”

“Let’s step backwards, then. What happened when you entered the Chamber?”

Ginny shook her head, frightened. “I was scared. My body moved on its own, spoke on its own. I should never have picked the thing up.”

“And when did that occur?”

“When Logsdoddy was petrified,” she hung her head in shame. “She was out way early for Quidditch practice, and I wanted to sneak down to the pitch and watch Slytherin. You know, see if they were really going to win this year.” Her ears burned red. “She didn’t have a Quaffle or a Bludger, so she was just batting charmed rocks and watching them go. Then she fell down.”

“She was watching her hits with something, right?” Harry interjected.

“A pair of binoculars,” Dumbledore approved.

“Right. So she was petrified, and I ran down there to try and help. But I tripped over her things on the way, and dropped mine, and it was all a big mess, and I ran off to get a teacher and left it there. By the time I was let back in to get my things, I wanted it all to be over with. So I scooped up a bunch of her stuff with mine. It wasn’t anything, some parchment, a book on Beaters. I figured I would just give it back when she woke up. But the diary was in there, and I couldn’t resist just peeking at it. I- ah.” She looked at Harry, blushed. “I thought it was Harry’s, I had seen him write in it before. But it was empty. So I wrote in it, and I think that’s what made it activate.”

Harry nodded. “I think so, too.” Dumbledore sighed.

“Dark artifacts circulating in the school… perhaps the council is correct in this, Lucius. Perhaps I am losing my touch.”

Harry turned furious eyes on the elder Malfoy, something Snape did not fail to see. Malfoy Senior cleared his throat and responded, “Clearly I was mistaken, Dumbledore. In the systematic destruction of such dark magic, a few items were bound to slip through the cracks. In this case, we were merely… fortunate that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley were able to withstand the effects, and no student was permanently injured.”

“As we speak, they are being revived by Madam Pomfrey, with use of my own brewed tonic.” Snape added.

Dumbledore obviously understood that there was more at play here than he was being told. But he settled his eyes on Lucius Malfoy, and it seemed that was where he would set the blame. Truly, Harry thought, it was the right place.

“I believe, if that’s settled to everyone’s satisfaction, our students are in dire need of some rest.” Harry let out a breath before the next sentence called him back to attention. “Harry, if I could speak with you alone.” It was not a question. Draco and Ron shot him commiserating looks as they left. Dobby and Ginny had equally as disquieting hero worship faces on.

 

 

Dumbledore eyed him over the rim of his glasses, and Harry resisted the punch-drunk urge to lower his own and mimic the gesture. When the Professor began to speak, Harry startled a bit. “Harry, at the end of last year you survived something terrible. And again, this year, the school finds you worse for wear. I think perhaps I should apologize.”

“Because you thought I opened the chamber.”

He inclined his head. “Because I entertained the notion for a bare second. I should not have.” Harry was actually going to tell him that he had in fact been responsible, but Dumbledore followed with, “While you may have opened it physically, you were not there. You were being controlled, and it is not your fault.” Harry broke his gaze for the first time that night.

“But the diary…”

“A dark artifact indeed. It possessed an echo, a bare memory of a boy who once attended this school. At this point, it must not be a surprise to you that the boy once known as Tom Riddle became the monster Voldemort.”

“He told me, in the chamber,” Harry replied miserably.

Dumbledore folded his hands gently. “It is not a crime to trust. Nor to be young and foolish.” His eyes said, ‘and you were these things.’ “But it is criminal that I looked at you, at the determination in your eyes, and found myself comparing the two of you.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore did something very foolish indeed; he conjured the image of Tom Riddle as he was in his seventh year. He may have done this to measure Harry’s response, to disquiet him, or for his own peace of mind. Harry wasn’t sure, even days later. But Harry looked at that boy, glaring at Professor Dumbledore, and he didn’t recognize the boy from the Chamber who he had written to all year. He saw the monster that Tom had not yet become.

Dumbledore saw something quite different. He saw two boys, not dissimilar, one from long ago and one fresh from a deadly encounter. He thought he understood them both, but was finding that he did not understand either.

Dumbledore banished the vision again with another wave. “Get some sleep, Harry. Professor Snape is in dire need of a nightcap and pajamas, and I would hate to keep him.” Snape looked back at the Headmaster blankly, looking as if he would like nothing more than to have several nightcaps in quick succession.

 “Sir, one more thing before I go.” Harry paused. “The basilisk. She’s gone back into hibernation.”

“Yes?”

“I think the school should leave her be.”

The old wizard’s eyebrows raised. “Harry, that basilisk is a risk to students. She killed one fifty years ago, and nearly did so again tonight.”

“No, history’s gotten it wrong. She was meant as a weapon, but not against Muggleborns. Just against enemies of the school. She was twisted by Voldemort into this thing, but without his influence, all she wants is to sleep.” And eat.

“Be that as it may, she was used to threaten those who depend on this school to remain safe. How can I let it live when parents are calling out for blood?”

“Sir… I think she deserves to be protected. She’s nearly as old as the school. And she’s so smart. Voldemort could control her, as the Heir, but she knew what he was making her do. She hated it.” Well, she hated parts of it. Like being hungry and cold.

“So you believe her to be innocent.”

“Yes.” He held his breath as Dumbledore deliberated, but didn’t have the patience. “It isn’t like anyone can get down there. Only a Parselmouth can.” That was a not-very-subtle nudge; if Harry didn’t let him in, even Dumbledore might have trouble with the Chamber. “And if we say she’s dead already, it can’t be disproven.”

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. “Very well, Mr. Potter. On probation, we shall allow the great serpent to slumber beneath us once more. She is quite lucky to have such a champion as you. However. I must ask you not to go down into the chamber again.”

There was no getting around that. “If I must go, I will ask permission first.” At least that had a little wiggle room. Permission or no, he would have asked. And it wouldn’t be Dumbledore he asked.

Dumbledore chose to smile, rather than rage. “I suppose that is all I can ask, from such a curious boy.” His tone dismissed him, and Snape preceded him out.

\--

Snape set him down decidedly in the hospital wing after they left Dumbledore, and fed him some potion that made him drowsy immediately.

“Did you dose me with Dreamless Sleep?” Harry tried to demand, but it came out rather woozy.

“Precisely. Five points to Slytherin.” Snape may have smiled, but Harry thought it was more likely a dream.

\--

Harry slept for an age, and when he was finally awake and Pomfrey hadn’t bustled around he snuck out. He went straight to where he knew his friends would wait; the classroom right down the hall from the library.

“Harry,” Malfoy began in a painfully earnest voice, like he was talking to someone with a terminal diagnosis. “Are you alright? Did Dumbledore make you recount the whole thing?”

“Oh _Draco,_ I’m so _sad_ , you know.” Harry took on a watery affectation that edged toward a French accent as he went. “ _Ron, Hermione,_ I missed you dreadfully down in the chamber. I was ever so frightened. Group hug?”

“You’re fine?” Draco hung halfway between disbelief and aggravation.

Hermione had her hands half-raised for an actual group hug before Draco spoke, and waved them awkwardly before putting them down to her sides. “You’re fine?”

“I’m fine.” Harry smiled. It was strained, but it counted. “I’m tired. I really, really need a shower. And maybe an _Episkey_ or two. But I’m okay. They’re making me sleep in the Hospital Wing for a while, just in case. Did you hear Dumbledore cancelled finals? How does that even work? Do we all pass? Even the Crabbes and Goyles of the world?”

“Who cares, at this point.” Hermione looked at Ron with her mouth set in a straight line, but didn’t say anything.

“Draco. I actually need a favor.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I need to talk to that house-elf, the one from Dumbledore’s office. The one you told me about. Can you do that?”

“Easy as pie. I actually conned Father into giving him to me.” He affected a pitiful face. “Surely such a wretched creature is useless to you, Father. Let _me_ have him, as he’s failed you so.” He reverted to normal. “I had to spout a great bunch of squack essentially about how he was such a great wizard, and how Dobby would see how good he had it when he was in my employ. All’s well, he’s not a bad house-elf anyway. A bit whiny, but my old one needed to retire anyway. She practically raised me, she deserved a break.”

Hermione sniffed. “I’ve been reading about the plight of the house-elf,” of course she had, in the one night they hadn’t seen each other, “and you ought to free the poor thing. I mean really,”

Uncomfortable with this sudden outpouring of information and the impending argument, Harry asked, “So when can I talk to him?”

Draco considered. “You’re still sleeping in the Hospital Wing, right? I’ll send him tonight, so Pomfrey doesn’t find out you have ‘uninvited visitors.’” Hermione continued to talk over him until Ron interrupted.

“Speaking of the hospital wing,” Ron bounced, “Can I tell him?” Hermione rolled her eyes and her scolding face lightened. “Lockhart’s in there too!”

“He cursed off his own hands,” Hermione whispered in a gossipy tone. “Nobody knows what he did with them, and since he’s incompetent,”

“Thank you,” Draco muttered.

“Since he is, in fact, a dunderhead,” she grumbled in return, “he’s got no clue.”

 “How come I didn’t see him?”

“He keeps fainting,” Ron giggled. “They put curtains ‘round him like he’s petrified.”

“Evidently he looks at where his hands were, and he’s out like a light.” Draco snapped his fingers. “They had to cover them up to keep him talking long enough to figure out he did it to himself.”

“But they found him in his office, with all his things packed! The bloody idiot was packing. My sister was down there, and instead of planning with the other professors he was filing his signed portraits!” Draco patted him absently on the arm to calm him down. It was a measure of how riled Ron was that he allowed it.

Hermione was, as always, thinking. “Do you reckon he was spelling something away? A mess, or something to pack, you know, and somehow it rebounded on him? But it would be interesting that the spell targeted his hands.”

“Don’t know, don’t care. I hope we get a new Defense professor next term, though. I’ve learned rubbish under Lockhart.”

“Learned how not to style your hair.” Draco pointed out helpfully.

Hermione sighed. “I’m just so glad that… you know.”

“We’re not dead?” Harry smiled at her.

“Yes! And we can worry about things like teachers, and next term, and hair, and tests, and spells…”

“You know, normal things,” he teased.

“Magic,” Hermione grinned back, “and all the other normal things.”

\--

He didn’t want to go back to the Hospital Wing quite yet. There was no way Madam Pomfrey had missed his escape, and she was bound to be furious. Harry didn’t really have any destination, but he was hungry, so his feet led him to the Great Hall. The massive doors were open for once, and the sound of laughter and silverware on plates drifted out into the hall. He stopped in his tracks. Harry didn’t really want to go in there. He wasn’t keen on listening to whispers- or passing out in front of anyone. The thought actually made him feel sick. That lingering damage Snape had talked about was serious. He really shouldn’t have left the Hospital Wing without getting checked over.

 He turned to go back to the infirmary, resigned. Maybe if he apologized, Madam Pomfrey would cure whatever he’d done to himself now and forgive him next year.

“Theo,” Harry stopped, surprised. He hadn’t anticipated Theo would seek him out, given what Snape had told him. “I thought…”

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” Theo shook his head and steered Harry to a convenient alcove. That was great, because it meant Harry could sit down while they had what was shaping up to be a seriously exhausting conversation. It looked over the courtyard, dark and quiet. “If I had known the diary would cause all this, I- well, I don’t know what I would have done differently. Stolen it, maybe.”

Harry shook his head. “I would have hurt you for it. I wasn’t myself.”

“Exactly. And none of us noticed. I knew you had a dark artifact and I did nothing, and people got hurt. I acted just like my father.” He reached out, then, and laid a hand of Harry’s shoulder. The contact shocked him. “But I also knew you were really attached to the diary. And I’m sorry it turned out the way it did.”

Harry couldn’t look at him. “It shouldn’t have been difficult, he’s my enemy. I was just the only one that didn’t know that. He had to be destroyed, and I… I was the only one that could do it.”

“And that’s what makes you better, Harry. You do what needs to be done.” Harry didn’t have the heart to contradict him.

“What needed to be done.” He thought of the last time he had seen the diary, wet and scratched, abandoned in the Chamber. “Do you really think he deserved it? To die, I mean.”

“Was he truly alive?” It wasn’t a question based in bias, but in curiosity.

Harry shrugged. “I think so. He had new ideas, built sentences out of known variables. Formulated a plan that changed as new facts came to light. I don’t think anyone but Hermione could argue against a thinking being based on that.”

“And you know he killed a girl, fifty years ago.” At Harry’s searching look, he elaborated. “My dad’s out of incarceration and half mad, not dead. They let him send mail. I asked. He knew a man named Tom Riddle, once.”

The revelation stunned Harry for a second. It was still strange to think that there were years he didn’t know about, that Tom Riddle went on to live, and learn, and kill people. “I know about Myrtle. But the basilisk killed her, with nothing but a look. I can believe Tom might have wanted her dead, but I don’t think her death that night was part of the plan. Not with how he scrambled to clean it up. I mean, blaming it on Hagrid? On a spider? Did nobody think to connect Slytherin and petrification to a basilisk?” He gestured broadly, wiping away the diversion. “I don’t think he deserved to die. I don’t think anyone should die based on my judgement. I’m only twelve!”

Theo dropped his face and sighed. “You didn’t destroy it, did you?” Harry sat up straight, summoned up as much surety as he could.

“It wasn’t what needed to be done.”

“Merlin, I hope you’re right. I hope I’m not letting you make another huge mistake. You’re justifying your actions, Harry, can’t you see that?” Theo paused for a response he didn’t get. “I want you to be careful. More than that, I want you to tell me when something this big happens again, even if you don’t think it’s a problem. I don’t want to just stand by and do nothing, and see people get hurt over and over.”

“Alright, Theo. I can do that.” He was making promises to everyone, it seemed. Reassured, Nott helped him to the Hospital Wing, where he avoided most of Pomfrey’s lecture by falling asleep.

\--

Harry meant to wake for the house-elf’s visit, but given the screech he made when he opened his eyes to two round green lightbulbs, he failed. He quickly stifled his outburst and sat up. “Hello, you must be Dobby. It’s nice to finally meet you, again, I suppose.”

“Hello, Mr. Harry Potter.” The house-elf was having trouble meeting his eyes, looking down at his wringing hands. “Dobby would like… would like to apologize…” and great big fat glistening tears began to roll down his face.

“Er, it’s ok, Dobby. Really.”

“But Dobby couldn’t _save_ Harry Potter, Dobby was _caught_ , Dobby _failed_ Master’s friend. Old Master was a mean old fart, he was, what kind of twisty wizard…” Dobby looked happy all of a sudden. “Dobby can insult him now, how nice. Master Draco is not nearly as twisty, Mr. Potter. Dobby knows you can’t remember, but Dobby’s met you three times before.” His eyes blinked quickly. “Old Master made Dobby do it, sir. You forgot.”

“It’s alright, Dobby. Draco told me all of that.” Dobby nodded furiously. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Hermione’s heard all about how you had to punish yourself, and she’s… well, she’s not happy about it. But you say Draco’s better?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Potter. Dobby wouldn’t know what to do without him, ser.”

“And if that ever changes, you would tell him?” Dobby blinked at him incredulously. “I mean, if you ever wanted to be free. Not work for the Malfoys.”

“ _NOT WORK,”_ Dobby hollered, no matter how Harry hushed him. “NOT WORK!” He yelped. “What would Dobby do? No, Master Draco has Dobby doing much better things, now, and gives Dobby free time, and a nice clean pillowcase, and Dobby understands, now, why Greeby was so happy to be under Master Draco’s side of the tree. Not work! What would Dobby do instead?”

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged. “Whatever you want?”

“Dobby had none of that under Old Master, and plenty under Master Draco, and any more might break Dobby. House-elves, the best and happiest ones, are tied into the magic of the house. Old Master never did, but Master Draco has, and oh, Dobby’s not so hungry anymore. See, ser?” He turned to the side, like Harry could tell a difference in his skinny elbows and his bulging stomach from when they met a few days before.

Harry did not see, but Dobby was obviously happier, and it wasn’t like Draco wouldn’t keep an eye on him. “Alright, Dobby. I’m glad. I guess.” And with a nod and a crack, the little house-elf left.

Harry lay down and waited for sleep. He thought about Dobby being in Draco’s employ, and how annoying Harry himself would find it, and laughed. Draco would quite like being fawned over as a testament to wizardkind’s ability to be halfway decent. Harry thought it might be good for his development to have such a constant incentive to not be the worst.

\--

The following morning he was released from the Hospital Wing to go to classes. He might have rather stayed. It wasn’t the coursework; he hadn’t missed anything, everyone was too scared and confused by the events of the Chamber that classes had been on hold. But nobody would stop _staring_ at him. At least last year, after Quirrell, it had been the end of the year. It was much harder focus on learning when Flitwick would stop in the middle of the sentence to blow his nose and try not to cry. The routine helped, however, and he got to sleep in his own bed that night.

While the school rang with whispers of what happened down in the Chamber, nobody but Harry knew the whole truth. He had abandoned a friend- or was it an archenemy- to save another. Ginny faced her own troubles, the intense questioning driving her to her brothers’ protection. Harry had trouble getting out of bed each day, pushing down memories and guilt in turn.

 

The two of them talked only once before the end of term, both awkward and determined to make everything better. This led to a lot of talking over each other.

“I’m sorry you ended up with the diary,”

“No, it’s _him_ , he did it, it’s like he winds his way inside your head and makes it impossible to think,” but Harry didn’t feel like that.

“It’s my fault people were petrified, I let him have power over me,” he starts to protest, but Ginny’s newfound vehemence kept her talking over him.

“If you hadn’t he would have just pushed harder,” she slammed her hand down on the desk, and Harry stopped talking. “He would have made you feel bad about yourself, and just when your esteem crashed he would pick you up like he was the only one there for you. He made me doubt my brothers. I’ve never doubted them in my whole life.”

Harry was beginning to think that he and Ginny hadn’t had the same experience, after all. He had been hazy, he can admit that now, but not crushed under the weight of Tom’s regard. Both of them had lost time, but he had never felt swallowed up by the diary like she had. Still, he tried his best to be sympathetic, and she tried too, and neither of them felt much better at the end.

\--

“ _Hello, Slytherin Serpent_ ,” Harry brushed his fingers over the frame.

_“Hello. You have met the one below, the portraits say.”_ The silvery coils of its body hardly moved, but intelligent eyes peered down all the same.

“ _I met her.”_

_“Is she magnificent?”_ Harry nodded. “ _Is she still alive?”_ It asked in the same tone, flat and a little awed. He nodded again. The snake tracked its head back and forth, thinking to itself.

“ _We’re leaving school soon, for summer break.”_ The snake did not respond. Summer break didn’t mean anything to it. “ _I wanted to say goodbye.”_

_“Oh, goodbye. Hello again soon.”_ Its eyes closed.

“ _Goodbye hello again soon,”_ he repeated back with a smile.

\--

With no exams to sit, the school year fizzled to an end. Nobody was really determined to learn except Hermione anyway, and soon enough they surrendered to the atmosphere. McGonagall did teach them a marvelous Transfiguration trick they never would have had time for in the regular curriculum; transfiguring whittlings to wheels, which was much less helpful than beetles to buttons, but more entertaining in a classroom setting, as she let them race when they were through. Neville’s car had a bad habit of collapsing halfway through, but it was great fun. Flitwick organized a crumpled parchment levitation tournament, which was just like paper football but Harry would never say so.

It was just what Harry had imagined when he thought of Wizarding School. It helped.

\--

Harry until the last minute to talk to Snape, or at least his last office hours. He knocked carefully on the door and waited for the drawled, “Enter.”

“Hello, Professor.”

“Mr. Potter. I assume you have a reason for being here today.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry sat in the unwelcoming chair, which creaked alarmingly. “I’d like to ask your permission to go back to the Chamber.”

Snape stilled at his desk, looking over. “For what purpose?”

“I’m not sure the basilisk is hibernating.” True. “And if she isn’t, she’ll be hungry.” True. “And I sort of promised her a meal when she was chasing me around,” he finished honestly.  Snape didn’t spare the breath to sigh.

“The Chamber of Secrets is not your personal jungle gym,” Snape sneered. “Neither is a dangerous dark creature your pet. Permission denied.” Harry lowered his shoulders pitifully and looked down.

“I understand, Professor.” He stood up to leave.

“Wait.” He half turned back, hiding his face still. Snape stepped around the desk. “Have you just asked permission, which according to your deal with Dumbledore, will free you to go down to the Chamber?”

Harry blinked innocently. “Sir?”

Snape did not want to deal with this. He didn’t want to step carefully around James Potter’s son, he didn’t want to keep an eye out for inevitable rule-breaking and a boy pretending to be cleverer than his professor. But he wouldn’t just let her boy step into that place alone.

“I will accompany you.” Snape stood.

Harry twitched toward the door. “Now?”

“Now.”

\--

Snape might have said that, but instead of leading them to Myrtle’s bathroom he led them down an unfamiliar hall to a painting of fruit.

It swung open for them, and a house-elf poked its head out. “Professor,” it ducked its head wildly. “Loutle, at your service. What will you be needing, sirs?”

Snape looked to Harry, who looked back.

“Well?” He prompted the boy. “What does it eat?”

Harry flicked through what they had learned about basilisks, but he was no Hermione. He didn’t remember, even if they had found it. “Large snakes can eat things bigger than they are, but seeing as she’s much, much larger, er…” But they had found small vertebrate skeletons in the chamber vestibule, and fish. “Fish would do, or a deer, or a cow? Alive,” he added as Loutle ducked back through the painting.

“I hope you don’t expect to carry a cow down there,” Snape sneered.

“Can’t you shrink it, sir?” He shot back, skating the edge of sarcasm.

They did, actually, shrink a cow. Where did they get a cow with five minutes’ warning? Harry marveled at the tiny beast in the palm of his hand as they made their way to Myrtle’s bathroom. It still had a massive ‘out of order’ sign plastered to it.

“Are you sure about following, Professor?” Snape stared cooly, and Harry shook his head.

“ _Open,”_ he commanded the sink. The pit gaped below. “Would you like to go first?”

“ _Levicorpus”_ Snape intoned without responding, lowering them slowly into the darkness.

“Now, she might be anywhere, so don’t look up if you can help it. We should hear her first, if she comes, and I can try to tell her we’re here to help.” Suddenly it all seemed like a very bad idea. “Maybe, just don’t say anything or do anything? Sir.”

Snape was wondering why he hadn’t sent for the Headmaster. Ah, because he never would have allowed it, and then Potter would make his way down here alone. He kept his wand ready, but he didn’t need it.

“ _Hello!”_ Harry hissed into the silent, echoing chamber. It seemed bigger, somehow, without Ginny’s body lying at the front. “ _I’ve come to keep my promise,”_ he coaxed. “ _Brought food,”_ was answered with a rumble and a hiss. “Eyes down, professor,” Harry warned, but his attention was all on the giant coil headed toward them. “ _Stop.”_

She stopped, tail flicking. “ _Hungry, cold.”_

“Professor,” Harry asked calmly, “Would there happen to be any type of spell that would make it warmer in here?”

Snape was not foolish enough to argue with the basilisk right in front of them, so summoned up an atmospheric warming charm.

“ _Brought food,”_ Harry gestured for Snape to re-size the cow. She snapped it up without another word, too fast to see, and gulped it down, which Harry looked away for. “ _Would you close your killing eyes for us?”_

_“Yes… food.”_ And Harry carefully did not look, he didn’t- but his eyes creeped up the line of scales and found no yellow, only shielded green.

“It’s alright, Professor, she’s closed her eyes.” He breathed again. “ _Will you keep them closed?”_

_“I will not kill you unless I intend it. I am no longer under the command of the last wizard. Am I under yours?”_

_“I would rather… not?”_ That was the right answer, as she lowered her head closer to the ground, away from the stance she would use to strike. Harry swallowed hard. She ate a cow without unhinging her jaw, a human would be nothing. Almost as nothing as rats and fish. “ _Are you still hungry?”_

Her tongue flicked the air. “ _No. For now. It has been a long time since I was not hungry.”_

_“Me and my friend, we may visit again. Would you keep your killing eyes closed when we come?”_

_“If you come with food, always,”_ she hissed, a hint of dark laughter in her tone. “ _If you come without food, maybe.”_

Harry looked at Snape quickly. “I don’t suppose you know if basilisk fangs grow back?” He shook his head. “ _Will your fang recover?”_ In response she opened her mouth. Wide, wider, and Harry realized that it could eat both of them and the cow. But there was the tip of a new fang, yellow and dripping, slightly smaller than the other but coming in. “I think they do,” he muttered to Snape, who looked half sickened and half fascinated.

“ _Did you want venom?”_ She asked idly. “ _When they brought food, they took venom, before the last master.”_

_“We call him Riddle,”_ Harry clarified. He had to use the Parseltongue word for riddle, which felt strange in his mouth, like a rabbit trail that disappeared or a nest empty of eggs but covered in down.

“ _Riddle,”_ she echoed, sticks laid like shadows across the path, good place for a trap. Harry shivered. “ _Never took venom. Did you want it?”_

_“Does it hurt you?”_

A ripple ran down her scales. “ _No.”_

“Professor, she’s asking if we wanted to take venom from her. I personally don’t like the idea of establishing a work-for-food system, but she says it doesn’t harm her.” He shrugged. If Snape took the bait…

Without another word he summoned up a potions flask.

“ _He will take some venom. Call if it is not acceptable, please don’t eat him.”_ He edged around her as she opened her mouth again, less wide, and dipped to the ground so Snape could access her fangs.

“ _Won’t eat. Tell him to take from the new one, it drips. Tastes bad.”_

“She says to tip under the newer fang, the smaller one,” Harry relays her message, stepping around the largest coil of her body. Snape made a startled noise as she flexed the tissue around her fangs, a conscious action. Venom sprayed into the container, filling it quickly. Harry would need to be fast. One more step and he was hidden from Snape’s sight; another and he was close to where he was standing that night. He had thrown it, and it had fallen into water, and there it was. He scooped it into his hands and into his robes, shaking.

She lifted her head abruptly and Snape stumbled back, capping the full flask and banishing it away. “ _You took riddle’s book,”_ she intimated slyly. She was smart. He was so glad they weren’t going to have to kill her, she was so smart.

“ _It’s mine,”_ he didn’t need to defend himself.

“ _I suppose. Everything is quicker, when things are warm. Will they stay warm? Everything is better without a master. I have had a master, and then I was sleeping, and then master again. Never without. I would quite like, I believe, to have a not-master that feeds me and keeps me warm.”_

_“I-“_ Harry faltered. “ _I have to leave, for now. For a season.”_ She hissed wordlessly.

“ _I must eat.”_

“We need the house-elves to send a cow into the pipes…” _“Feed every month?”_

_“Fourteen days,”_ she replied rapidly.

“Every fortnight.”

Snape sent off a spell to the elves, with written instructions. He would have to find a way for them to pop food into existence in the chamber, if it isn’t magically counted as part of the castle. A diversion for another day.

_“We will still find a way to feed you every fourteen days.”_

_“I will get cold.”_

_“It will be summer.”_

_“I will be alone.”_

_“I will be back soon,”_ he comforted. _“As soon as I can.”_

The walk out was considerably less charged than the way in. Harry was tired all over again, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed. It was still afternoon, he reminded himself.

Snape was trying to shake out the image of the small boy walking in front of him talking to the great snake. It had ended well- or had sounded like it ended well, and the boy seemed happy- but the picture would haunt him for a long while.

\--

Dumbledore’s end of year speech was all ‘rising from adversity’ and ‘the brave triumph’ and telling the students just about nothing. He glossed over Weasley’s kidnapping and near death. He named the perpetrator of the petrification attacks as a dark artifact, now destroyed. Of course, this left nobody to blame. That in turn means everyone still thought Harry was the Heir. Harry should be seething, but he felt empty.

Ravenclaw won the house cup.

“Disappointed?” Blaise asked coyly. “Big hero boy, such a downer ending.”

Harry felt himself laugh slightly. “What does it matter?” His hand drifted to the diary, still tucked securely in a transfigured pocket on the inside of his robes. He hadn’t tried to write in it yet. He didn’t know what to say.

Dumbledore was gazing in their direction, and Harry locked eyes with him. Obviously Dumbledore expected some other reaction than laughter, but his smile barely faded before he raised his glass and resumed his conversation with Professor Flitwick to his left.

“Do you think he’s punishing us?” Draco asked.

“What?”

“Dumbledore. Last year, you saved the school, won the house cup. This year, you muck it up, don’t win the house cup.”

Blaise flicked a drop of pumpkin juice at him. “Oi. No scheming. Just eat.”

\--

Seshhe turned up under Harry’s bed after the feast. “ _I didn’t think you were ever coming back,”_ he addressed the snake.

Seshhe gave a dismissive flick of his tongue. “ _You lied to me."_  Harry sat on his packed trunk and met Seshhe's eye directly.

_“I know. You tried to warn me, and I repaid you with sticks. I am truly sorry.”_

_“I’m not sitting here magic-starved waiting for you. But when we get back to the other house, you’ll owe me. You would have been better off alone. No nest has ever suffered from a lack of visitors.”_

Harry smiled, half at the scolding and half at the easy forgiveness. “ _I’ll make it up to you.”_ Seshhe deigned to wrap up his arm, and they walked to catch the train. “ _Wait until you meet the great snake underneath us next year…”_

\--

_Tom_

_Hello?_

_Tom, answer me. Please_

_Please answer_

_I didn’t even know you could be this patient_

_Answer me right now or I’ll throw you in the toilet_

_There’s a limit to being stubborn_

_Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Riddle_

_Rot in there then, you prick_

_Tom, the Dursleys’ is shite as ever, let me tell you what happened today…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Year 2 down! A bit of a downer, but we get to keep the big snake, so. (I promise Tom's not dead. Pinkie swear. That's like a main character dying in the first 30 minutes of a movie.)


End file.
